Fields of Gold
by Mystikal19
Summary: The marriage of Éomer and Lothíriel was purely for diplomatic reasons. How can Lothíriel fulfill the duties of wife and Queen of Rohan when it seems the only thing she fears more than horses is Éomer himself? Complete
1. Chapter 1

_A good day to all that is reading this! Many of you probably know me as Mystikal, but since that name was unavailable when I registered, I added a number. I hope you like this story, for it is my very first LOTR story and I am quite fond of it myself. Please read and review, I love hearing feedback and want to know what I can do better the next chapter and what you like. It will not be a long story, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless._

_Disclaimer: The original plot and characters of The Lord of the Rings_ _belongs to J.R.R Tolkien. Everything you do not recognize is purely for my entertainment and yours._

_-Mystikal(19)_

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_**Fields of Gold**_

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Still, Éomer could not believe that he had a wife.

By the gods, she was gorgeous, but still, he had never imagined himself to marry for political reasons.

The woman beside him at the head of the long table during the meal that broke the night's fast was by far the most beautiful woman he had laid his eyes upon for a long time and perhaps the most docile woman as well. The slanted eyes were a mystifying hazel, her dark eyebrows a perfect arch matching her dark hair that fell to her waist in curls. Her body, Éomer noted once more as his eyes trailed across her completely, was perfect. A tiny waist, she was of medium height and possessed many features that men enjoyed.

The angel had a name, his newly wed wife, Lothíriel, daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, the city by the sea. Lothíriel looked to her hands as she felt the eyes of her husband trail over her. She could not bring herself to stare into the intense gaze of the King of Rohan, for each time she did she felt more insecure.

Éomer sat, bewildered that the woman would not as much look at him. Was he that much of a beast? Did he over dominate so that she was terrified at his very look? It was true that they had only been married for three days, and all the traditions had been carried out on the wedding day and night, but ever since that morning, Lothíriel had been distant and wary of his rumbling voice.

What he really needed, Éomer hated to admit, was his sister's advice. He would have to seek her out before those who had attended the wedding departed for their homelands. Éomer and Lothíriel both hated to think of those they loved to leave, especially since they would be all alone afterwards.

The silence was deafening, and Éomer could not fathom to think of what he was to say. It was to both of the new couple's relief when Éothain burst into the room, seating himself beside his friend and king and accepting the food prepared. The young man looked vaguely pleased that his friend Éomer and the Queen were at least sitting beside each other. Éothain's amber eyes sparkled with mirth as he realized he had never seen Éomer as uncomfortable as then.

"A good morning to you, Éomer-King, my lady," Éothain offered with an inclination of his head. Lothíriel nodded. Her eyes were thankful as she smiled to the young man whom had been Éomer's best friend since boyhood.

"It is indeed a good morning," Éomer remarked mildly as he tested the meal that he had beforehand forgotten. Éothain grasped the sentence with an acquiescing gaze, grasping hold of the idea that formed into his mind immediately.

"A find day to ride, is it not, my lord?" he asked potently, his hands falling to his lap.

"Everyday in Edoras is a fine day to ride, Éothain," Éomer commented, laughing, trying to forget his dearest friend was addressing him with such formality.

"Perhaps you and our lady should enjoy this particularly wonderful day riding?" Éothain suggested. Éomer noticed poor Lothíriel's embarrassment and tried to evade the answer as much as she.

"Éothain, where is your dear wife, Forleaswyn? I am sure she would rather hear your aggravation than my wife and I do," Éomer said, the word 'wife' still odd on his lips. Éothain did not get the hint.

"If my resources of the note she left me bear true, she is having her gowns altered once again. The babe within her is growing quite rapidly and I do wonder how for I had always been a small boy," Éothain said, subject dropping for a moment at least.

Éomer laughed and Lothíriel smiled. "Éowyn took your news well enough."

"Béma, I thought I would go deaf with their shrieks and squeals," Éothain said, shaking his head in amusement.

"Perhaps," said Éomer, "you should find her. If I know Forleaswyn, she needs your assistance with at least one task," Éomer finished lamely.

"I shall, my friend, but before I go, should I ask the stable hands to get Firefoot and a mare for my lord and lady?"

The look that Lothíriel was giving her plate caused Éomer the desire to strangle Éothain right there.

"I have counsel meetings, I apologize," Éomer said to both present. Éothain looked as if he was about to persist, but Éomer gave him a look to leave. Éothain consented, half disheartened to leave without fulfilling the task Éowyn and he had decided to achieve. Finishing eating the food that remained in front of him, Éothain hurried, knowing the look he had received a warning that he thankfully grasped.

"I ask for forgiveness, Lady Lothíriel, but I must leave," Éothain said, standing and leaving the King and Queen alone – once again.

Before they could lapse into silence once more, Éomer said to Lothíriel, "I apologize."

"There is nothing to apologize of," Lothíriel said, her voice soft and soothing. "He was merely trying to help a friend… He did not know, likewise."

Éomer nodded. "If you ever wish to…go for a ride with me," he said, his baritone voice so different from her own, "I would call off any counsel, you know."

"Yes, Éomer, I know."

The mere fact that she used his name was a step in the right direction.

"I was thinking of spending the day with your sister, however. She has promised me that she would take me on a tour of Rohan ere she left," Lothíriel said. Éomer nodded, thanking his sister silently that she had the heart to be so kind to the terrified new bride.

"I am going to begin training a horse with Éothain this evening, you are more than welcome to come," Éomer said. Lothíriel nodded.

"I shall come if I have the time."

He stood before her, and helped her out of her chair by outstretching a kind hand. Lothíriel smiled, placing her hand into his and marveling at the strength that he possessed. Why he could surely break her in two!

Éomer walked her in silence halfway to their room, and stopped when he reached the doors leading outside. Lothíriel looked to him in wonder and when their eyes caught, she once more dropped her gaze and looked to the floor. He bit back the anger that her submissiveness gave him.

"I will see you this evening, Lothíriel," Éomer said as she let go of his arm and smiled, the stunning emerald garb she wore accented every curve beautifully. Lothíriel nodded.

"I enjoyed having the morning meal with you, Éomer."

If only it was not a lie that both knew, it would be fine. Éomer nodded. "I did as well, Lothíriel."

The woman nodded, her eyes gazing into his for a mere moment before she turned and closed the distance to her chambers. Éomer turned and left Meduseld to the stables, engrossing him with cleaning Firefoot's coat for the umpteenth time. It was implausible to think that his wife feared both him and horses so much. How was she to rule by his side if she could not hold his gaze for a minute? How could the Horse Lords follow under a Queen who was frightened of horses?

Resolutely, Éomer decided that battles did not only occur outside the home.

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"Éowyn, it is not working," Lothíriel commented as she watched the blonde haired woman search the clothing store as if she was scouting for an enemy. Éowyn looked up, holding in her hands a pearly silk fabric after she held it to her skin and smiled at how it complimented her complexion.

"My brother is not a man to express his feelings," Éowyn said reassuringly, "perhaps it is working better than you think."

"No," Lothíriel commented with a low mock laugh, "I do not know one thing about him, Éowyn, except he is devoted to his horses." Lothíriel sank down onto a chair and held her head in her right hand, the sapphire rings on her fingers shining in the sunlight leaking in an opened window of the shop.

Éowyn's tour was temporarily halted when the two women had fallen upon a shop whose owner was ecstatic when the two noblewomen walked inside. The cloth was all beautiful and while Éowyn looked, Lothíriel remembered the awkward night and morning, trying not to cry out of pure frustration. It was horrible.

"Come to think of it," Éowyn admitted, "that is all I know of him as well. That is all to know about him." She laughed. Lothíriel looked even more somber. "I am only joking, Lothíriel."

"Please help me," Lothíriel said. Éowyn looked sympathetic but her words did not seem to match her frown.

"I will tell you only this, for you need to find out what my brother is like yourself, to improve your relationship. Éomer is a righteous man, and he will strive to bring you happiness. He forgets his own happiness at times, and you need to make sure he does not do so too often as I had when I was the only one dear to him. Now that you are his wife, you will find he will protect both you and your name by all means. I am certain that you both shall find love, but you need to speak with him, Lothíriel," Éowyn finished, earning Lothíriel a smile.

"I shall, Éowyn, but I feel so intimidated by him!"

"He _is_ a mountain of a man, is he not? But do not feel fearful when with him, for when you are close to him you are most safe," Éowyn answered. "Come, at night we shall watch Éothain and him train his new horse. I am positive once you see him performing the task he loves most, you will see the true him."

Lothíriel adhered to the request though she was reluctant to go - for she was not sure whether she was more afraid of a runaway horse or a mocking look from her husband. She made her way with Éowyn and sat on the bluff above the training arena that withheld her husband and his brother-in-arms along with a very powerful roan colt. Lothíriel had brought with her a scratch of paper and a quill, deciding to use one of her main talents and to draw the horse the way she saw it after asking Éowyn if the idea was good.

Éowyn had thought the idea to be perfect, for if the woman shared the love of horses, perhaps her brother and she would be better off to fall in love.

"What is the horse's name?" Lothíriel asked as she watched Éomer lunge the horse with a training saddle on and Éothain watched from his spot sitting on the fence.

"His name is Rastus. He has much promise," Éowyn added, "look how smooth his gaits are! Especially for a two-year-old colt he is very quick to learn and he is swift."

Lothíriel looked to the horse's head, bobbing up and down as his legs thundered upon the hard ground in the three-stepped motion. She took up her quill and began to draw, the concentration on her face matching that on Éomer's as he guided the horse to slow and fasten with his shoulders and the Rohirric words emitting his mouth.

The scratching of the quill caused Éowyn to look over and watch Lothíriel draw, marveling at how accurate each stroke of the quill looked. The horse on the paper held the same power, the same majestic force of the horse as Rastus beheld in eye view. In the picture, his nostrils were flared, and he looked as if he were actually moving, the muscles in his legs tense as his eyes were wide with concentration. One ear was turned to listen to Éomer, and the other was back, showing his green knowledge and deep concentration.

Then, Lothíriel advanced to draw Éomer on the paper, capturing his stance and the look on his face perfectly. Éowyn continued looking over Lothíriel's shoulder to watch, and was impressed by how much the drawing equaled the way she saw her brother currently. His looked intense, his eyes narrowed in concentration, his lips moving soft and quickly under his breath in encouraging words.

Lothíriel continued to finish her drawing, and when the men below took a break, she was unaware that they saw her on the bluff.

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"She is very beautiful," Éothain remarked as they took a drink from the mugs that they had asked a nearby groom to get them. Éomer nodded.

"Aye, she is. I wish she wasn't so withdrawn – it seems to me as if she does not enjoy spending time with me at all," Éomer admitted as he stretched and watched Rastus begin to graze on the small leafs of the short weeds on the outside of the arena.

"So different from Éowyn, is she not?" Éothain laughed, chancing a glance at the two women, Lothíriel still writing on the paper and Éowyn looking over the other's shoulder to see what she wrote.

"You have no idea," Éomer said, taking a long drink of his water and staring to the setting sun. "I don't think I've talked to a woman like her for some time."

This caused Éothain to laugh. "I agree," he said before he explained further, "the barmaids at pubs do nothing that resembles Lady Lothíriel's demure manners, and neither does Éowyn who is only slightly less wild since her marriage to Faramir. As of my own wife, I forget that she used to be such a peaceful woman!"

Éomer chuckled low under his breath, thinking of the tiny woman who Éothain had married after the War of the Ring and meeting her during his own coronation. Forleaswyn barely came to his shoulder in height and was a wonderful lady of Meduseld as a daughter of a fallen Rider of Rohan. Éothain and his wife had been married for nearly a year when Forleaswyn had declared she held his child, and her manner changed drastically into a fiery tempered tempest that rivaled Éowyn at times.

"Perhaps," Éothain continued, "all you need to do is have a child yourselves and she will become more like Éowyn."

Éomer shook his head decidedly, "No. I am hardly able to live having a wife- a child will surely kill me of today."

This caused Éothain to roar in laughter, nodding as he realized the truth to the words.

"Besides," Éomer added, "of my luck she would only become more withdrawn and anxious of me."

Éothain shrugged and patted Éomer on the shoulder in an attempt to help raise the man's spirits. "Women are a peculiar subject, my friend. I am sure you shall figure her out in due time, however, she seems as if she is having a good time with Éowyn, perhaps your sister shall come to your rescue once again."

Instead of retorting to his friend's ill word choice, Éomer shook his head and turned to look to the beautiful woman he now called his wife, dressed in the new gown she had bought that day, a green dress that draped on her becomingly. Her eyes were drawn to the paper still in her lap, but once every moment she would look to Éowyn, speak of something and smile. Éomer heard her musical laughter from his spot a ways below them. He half wanted to go sit beside her and cause her the same laughter but was wary to frighten her away.

"I suggest you speak with her father or brothers and see what you should do to win her heart over. Perhaps she has a love of flowers or maybe animals or…what else do woman like?" Éothain asked. Éomer chuckled.

"And you have been married a year?"

"A year and a half this past month."

Éomer laughed, shaking his head in incredulously. Finally, he stopped and thought of the words that Éothain spoke. Perhaps he was right. "I will speak to her family of the morrow," Éomer said, "but we must take Rastus to his stall and bathe before dinner because you, my friend, smell."

The two men laughed, getting Rastus and taking him to this stall. Éomer looked behind once before he turned into the stable and looked at his wife, making it clear in his mind that she and he would be happy together soon.

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	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you all to my reviewers! You have no idea how happy they have made me that you are all enjoying my story so far. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I thank you for taking the time to read. Please review, and feel free to tell me any thoughts you have._

_**Katzilla**: Thank you, thank you, and thank you! I absolutely adore your stories and all the angst, so don't stop! Lol. I'm glad you enjoyed reading! I hope this chapter is just as good, I'm eager to see what you think of it:)_

_**Axa**: Thank you, I'm happy to hear that my style of writing is good. It's so hard to try and write something that is as good as Tolkien! I hope you enjoy the next installment._

_**Kia: **Thank you for the review and praise. I am glad you are enjoying my writing style. Wonderful!_

_**Sarah: **I'm glad you liked reading Éothain, I had so much fun writing him. :) He will be more in this story in the future chapters, but not this one so much. Thank you for the review!_

_**Mexican Devil, LothirielofRohan, Rivendellwriter, fandun, Eokat, The Princess of Leaves, merrymagic, quizabella** and **Taima1**: Thank you so much for all your praise. I was anxious to hear what you all had to say and am pleased that you all like it thus far. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!_

_-Mystikal(19)_

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Éomer was awakened early the next morning by the sounds of his wife getting dressed. By the time he had forced his heavy eyelids open, her handmaiden had finished helping tie the laces of the back of her white gown and Lothíriel was brushing her hair, having dismissed the handmaiden she had brought from Dol Amroth who had been helping her since she was a child.

Éomer could see her face in the reflection of the mirror and stayed lied back, looking at the beautiful golden skin of his wife, glowing in the faint candlelight. Her eyes were on the floor absentmindedly, and Éomer appreciated the calmness of her stature. Her shoulders were still straight and tall, but her face was much more relaxed.

The long tresses Lothíriel brushed glimmered in the soft glowing candlelight and she did not notice her husband awake in bed, looking at her. Finally, their eyes locked in the mirror's reflection and Lothíriel put down the brush, turning at once with guilt prominent on her features. "I apologize, Éomer, for awakening you."

"Do not apologize," said Éomer at once, regretting spying on his wife while she was still not used to him, "It is time I awaken at any rate."

"You were so busy with council meetings- that I should have attended as well- and then you worked Rastus last night as well. You must be exhausted. Please, I will put out my light and you can return to sleep." Lothíriel made a move to put out the candle flickering while the sun just began to rise.

"No, continue with your hair. I enjoy watching you." Éomer caused Lothíriel a blush and he continued, "As for the councils that you did not attend, do not worry. It only was of minor details, such as the dates to send new recruits to the borders. Elfhelm and Erkenbrand deemed it best we get them to their stations as soon as possible."

Lothíriel nodded, the comprehension visible in her eyes surprising Éomer vaguely, but he said nothing.

"I saw you last night on the bluff above the training arena," Éomer broke the brief silence. Lothíriel nodded, turning back to the mirror to finish setting her hair with a rose her handmaiden had set out of her request. "I am pleased you went, and I hope you enjoyed yourself."

"I had a splendid time," Lothíriel provided earnestly. Yes, she was terrified of horses, but for understandable reasons. She still liked to look at the beautiful creatures, though. "Rastus is an exceptional horse."

"He is a _Meara_," Éomer said, and to clarify the look of confusion on the reflection of Lothíriel's face, "the same kind as Shadowfax."

"Oh," she said as she pinned the rose in a pulled back curl. She removed her hands from her hair and was pleased. Lothíriel stood, surveying herself in the mirror and when she was done, she turned to Éomer and smiled gently to him. "Please, go back to sleep. You look weary and I am done in here. It is barely sunrise."

The look on her face was so genuine and beautiful, Éomer could have denied her nothing. Nodding, he settled back into the large pillow, his heavy eyes already beginning to droop. Just when he was going to ask her where she was going, Lothíriel put out the light, slipped on some slippers, and slinked through the door, shutting it behind her silently. Éomer shook his head in Lothíriel's secrecy, noting that every morning they had together she was the first awake.

Another thing he would ask her family, Éomer decided. What exactly did Lady Lothíriel love to do so early in the morning? Finally, Éomer's eyes closed accepting the sleep that had been threatening to engulf him ever since his eyes had opened.

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"Why do you have to go so early?" Lothíriel demanded. She could not help her bottom lip pouting slightly as she looked to her brother, Elphir. Elphir's wife, Nienna was currently chasing their son Alphros on the grass in front of Meduseld as the little five-year-old shrieked in delight.

Alphros looked just like Elphir with his raven hair and dark eyes, his light colored skin in contrast looked much like Nienna. Elphir and Nienna appeared very majestic together, she with her topaz colored hair and ivory skin, and he with his charismatic smile and benevolent aura. Elphir had always been the brother that Lothíriel looked up to; strong-willed and studious; he was the son of Imrahil that had not stepped out of line since he was five. Erchirion had been the one who favored his sister most, the charmer, with his brown curls and alluring eyes while Amrothos had always been the amiable jokester, the one everyone avoided when he was in a remarkably excellent mood.

Elphir, beside his sister sighed and crossed his arms on his chest. "Because, Lothíriel," he told her patiently, "Dol Amroth needs one of her princes for the obligations that even a wedding cannot stop. Do not look at me like that, little sister, for if I do not leave, it would be Father."

Lothíriel looked at Elphir with indignation in her eyes prominently. "But how long will it be until I see you again, brother? Or Alphros and Nienna? I do not want to say goodbye yet."

The tears were on their way to Lothíriel's hazel eyes and Elphir knew that once they were streaming down her cheeks he would feel vile.

"Do not cry, Lothíriel," Elphir said as he tipped her chin up with his thumb. Lothíriel bit her lip and looked to her elder brother with such pain in her eyes that Elphir felt even worse. "You have still a night with me. We leave tomorrow."

Taking in shaky breaths, Lothíriel managed to regain her composure. "You are right, Elphir. It is just… I am fretful that after you depart, it will not be long until Father must leave. You do not think he shall stay here with me forever, do you?"

Elphir chuckled low under his breath and Lothíriel smiled in jest. "No, dear sister. However, letters are available to send, and I wish to return to Rohan when you too share the joy of a firstborn." Elphir's eyes reached Alphros and Nienna laughing in the sunlit grass several paces away.

Lothíriel felt her stomach turn but said nothing.

"Come; do not feel so forlorn on such a divine day. Allow your thoughts to leave the worries of the morrow and think of just this one moment of today. Tomorrow will come, sister, with distressing or not. Would it not be better to enjoy a day with your brother than to waste it with such thoughts?" Elphir asked.

"Of course," Lothíriel said as she managed a smile though her distress. How far could she stray from her fears becoming a reality was to be determined, but if she could help her brother enjoy his final stay at the land she was to rule henceforth, she would.

Watching Elphir joining his wife and son at their play, Lothíriel joined them shortly after. As Elphir grabbed Nienna in a bear hug and swung her body around his, Alphros shrieked in joy and Lothíriel picked him up to do the same to him. Before she knew it, Lothíriel had managed to throw the wicked thoughts to the back of her mind.

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Éomer was thinking about his conversation with Éothain the past night, pondering if he really should talk to Lothíriel's family about her likes and dislikes, and feeling even more ridiculous that he could not ask Lothíriel the same exact questions. Opening a door, it just so happened to lead into the most used sitting room for those living inside of the walls of Meduseld. Inside the room were Erchirion, Faramir, and Éowyn, all looking to Éomer when the door opened and closed behind him.

Cursing his luck, Éomer was about to leave when Éowyn spoke up.

"There you are brother," she called to him before he could make it out of the door. Éomer let his hand drop from the door handle and turned. "Come sit," Éowyn persisted.

Unable to reject the offer without initiating questions Éomer wished to avoid, he joined his guests. The three looked to him expectantly and Éomer could only look back bluntly, promising himself not to say anything that might be ill advised. Where was Gamling when he needed him?

"We were just talking of you, actually," Faramir spoke up. Éomer looked to him in question. The man who was now Éowyn's husband had never looked better. Éowyn's kindness had reflected upon his handsome face, banishing the gloom in his eyes his father had caused, and replacing it with the mirth that should have always been there.

"Were you?"

"Yes," Éowyn cut in effortlessly, settling into the conversation with the grace she had to embarrass her elder brother every time she got. Éomer decided he did not want to know why, but Éowyn continued nevertheless. "Éothain found me this morning and told me to remind you that you had something you wished to ask of Lothíriel's family."

Éomer began to feel agitated, wondering if he could muffle her voice, everyone would forget her words. He knew, however, it was too late.

"Erchirion is of Lothíriel's family," Éowyn continued with a knowing smile from the look intensifying on Éomer's face. "Why not ask him?"

Erchirion looked to Éomer in query. Éomer glared at Éowyn who merely smiled as she nestled into Faramir's chest and leaned her head back on the arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"What did you wish to know of my sister?" Erchirion asked as Éomer and Éowyn's cold war depleted. Éomer decided that it would be best just to ask, then to avoid the question and make an even more fool of himself.

"I would like to know," Éomer continued after a moment of pulling his thoughts together, "some things that Lothíriel enjoys…so I can make Rohan more fitting to her."

Erchirion nodded, his eyes so understanding that Éomer was surprised. "It does not amaze me seeing you still do not know much of my sister. You have not known one another for much time, and she is shy and demure; never bragging about her accomplishments and whatnot."

Éomer was pleased to hear that she did not only act as she had acted in front of him. Perhaps there was a breath of hope.

"That is why it is good that she has a brother whose mouth is as big as Amrothos' and a father who is as proud as Imrahil. Because neither is here of the moment, I shall take it in my own responsibility to tell you a trifle of her," Erchirion said.

Vaguely gratified, Éomer's anger at his sister melted away.

"Of the many qualities that agree with her, I believe that Lothíriel's most prominent is her ability to draw. She adores waking up early in the morning when she is anxious or fearful, and drawing the sun's quest rising. Many of her works are splendid, and I am not known to enjoy the beauty of such things, as you know," Erchirion said with a smile, "but even I cannot tell you that her works are anything less than exquisite."

Éomer thought immediately of her morning ventures before he was awake and was even more reassured that she did not leave because of him- or so he told himself.

"At the palace of Dol Amroth, Lothíriel had a room that my father set up for her, and it held within it inks, quills, and whatever else she wished to explore with on parchment," Erchirion finished. At once, Éowyn spoke again.

"Last night," she said, looking to Éomer, "Lothíriel drew a picture of you with Rastus and it was divine. I have never seen such a drawing than the one the parchment she had held! It seemed as if the drawing was in motion, and it was the exact replica of what my eyes saw."

"Lothíriel does not hate horses," Erchirion said, explaining the faintly surprised look upon Éomer's face, "she is just fearful of them. They are so enormous, and she is a petite woman. She thinks they are beautiful, from a distance."

Éomer was even more relieved to hear this. Perhaps there was still a chance to sway her mind that horses were not menacing. Éomer felt thankful of his sister and best friend's obsessively large mouths, and he decided to thank them when he spoke with them later.

The room was quiet for a moment before Faramir spoke.

"My cousin had always been timid as a child, but the War of the Ring has truly taken away even more of her spirit," said Faramir. Exchanging a glance with Erchirion as if asking for permission to speak of such things, Faramir continued. "While Elphir, Erchirion, Amrothos, and Imrahil ventured out to fight, Lothíriel stayed with her mother to help with the affairs of Dol Amroth."

Erchirion's eyes stared at the ground, his face hard and cold as he remembered the past events that had scarred them all, but his sister the most.

"My mother died when we were away during the War, and Lothíriel was left alone, not knowing if any of her family would survive the terrible times – not even knowing if she would survive," Erchirion finished.

The words brought a painful flash of memories of the experiences they had not so long ago found. The room was silent and Éomer felt daft for not realizing that she could still be suffering from the horrors everyone had had to witness whether they were men fighting, or women and children staying behind never knowing what befell their loved ones. It had been such a thing Éomer should have understood, as his own sister nearly fell victim to a war she should not have fought. He still experienced nightmares of finding her on the battlefield, seemingly dead.

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It was evening, and Lothíriel was dressing for the farewell feast for some of her wedding guests. Lothíriel knew she would cry when the night was over, but she did not know that she would start crying when she was getting dressed for the feast. Her handmaiden had been busily tying the threads on the back of her gown and talking, as Lothíriel surveyed the gown she was wearing.

The garb was one that Éowyn had picked out for her, truly something a Rohirrim Queen would wear, she had said. It was, too. The deep emerald color set off Lothíriel's complexion, and the golden details twisting up the bodice and spiraling on the shoulders was divine. The dress was large and reached the floor, a split down the front showing a creamy petticoat underneath. Lothíriel hoped that Éomer would approve.

When Lothíriel's hair had been twisted back in braids, several locks left near her temples, a crown had been placed upon her head. The crown was beautiful; golden and thin, with emerald diamonds congruently positioned on the diameter. It was not a cause for tears, but Lothíriel felt her eyes well up with water when the thoughts that she would live in Rohan forevermore and rule beside an intimidating man, her _husband_, she felt she could not keep them away.

"My Queen," her handmaiden gasped when the tears began to trail down Lothíriel's cheeks. "Is anything amiss?"

Lothíriel found her hands shaking as she wiped aside her tears, shaking her head. "No, no. I am just a little…overwhelmed. Please, forgive me," Lothíriel said. The handmaiden nodded, still vaguely precautious, but said no more.

After her hair had been completed, Lothíriel sat on the chaise lounge to put her creamy colored slippers on her feet. After finding the jewelry Lothíriel was to wear, her handmaiden began to put on the emerald earrings, handing Lothíriel three rings to accompany her new wedding ring on her fingers.

Lothíriel stood when she was finished, turning to leave, but her handmaiden stopped her. "My Queen," she said, "wait, there is yet one thing you have to wear."

Nodding, Lothíriel stood, looking in the mirror and fixing invisible wrinkles in her gown. The handmaiden returned with a box, a note on top that read: _To Lothíriel, From Éomer_. It was simple, yet the touch brought bliss to Lothíriel's features.

The handmaiden opened the box and in it was the most gorgeous necklace she had ever seen. The golden chain was not truly a chain, for it was sculpted of tiny running horses, each horse's nose connected in a clasp to the tail of the horse in front. Each horse seemed slightly different from the last, be it a dipped profile or a leaner body. In the middle of the necklace was a dangling emerald, the focal point.

"My," Lothíriel breathed as her handmaiden clasped it behind her neck. Lothíriel touched it and smiled at the warmth, looking at it in the mirror. "This is truly magnificent!"

The handmaiden smiled. "It has a story behind it, but I was told not to inform you it. I deem you should ask Éomer-King."

Lothíriel nodded and thanked her faithful maid for assisting her with getting ready for the feast. The handmaiden nodded and fetched Éomer to escort her to the main hall, the place for the banquet and later dances. Lothíriel waited patiently, not being able to keep her hands from touching the necklace that lay around her neck.

Finally, Éomer rounded the corner and Lothíriel was once again caught off her guard at how handsome he appeared. She had not seen him so finely dressed since their wedding, and she found herself very taken by him. He was dressed in an elaborately made dark jade tunic, his hair glowing golden underneath the crown that was much larger than the one she wore and every bit as exquisite.

He offered her his arm, and the brown eyes that bore across her body caused Lothíriel to blush and avert her eyes to the floor. Yes, he was attractive, but he was still so daunting that Lothíriel could not pull together enough bravery to say anything, yet alone hold his gaze.

"You look very nice," his voice finally rumbled, startling Lothíriel. Seeing the necklace around her neck, Éomer smiled, asking her, "Do you like my gift?"

"Yes, very much so," she replied, her fingers once again touched the beautiful emerald around her neck. Lothíriel could not find her voice to ask the story of it, and so she merely set her eyes anywhere but his face as they began their walk.

The walk to the Great Hall was silent. Lothíriel could sense Éomer's frustration and this continued to make her timid. Was it never to work out? Lothíriel felt a lump rise in her throat at the horrors that her thoughts found. To be a wife of someone who she could not speak to – not of his doing, but her own foolishness would be horrible. She prayed he was not angry with her.

They were inside the Great Hall after a moment, the tables all adorned with the best settings and food piled high on the serving dishes. So many eyes stared to the handsome young couple, and Lothíriel tried her best to smile as she had been taught to in front of many. She found Imrahil's eyes; he gave her a reassuring smile as she finished surveying the crowd.

Aragorn and Arwen were present, as were Legolas and Gimli who had managed to take some time out of their busy lives to be present to the wedding. There were Éowyn and Faramir, Elphir and Nienna with a fussing Alphros, along with Éothain and his beautiful wife Forleaswyn, heavy with child. There was Erchirion, Amrothos, Merry, Pippin… so many people she recognized that Lothíriel had no right to be wary. However, her stomach turned in anxiety and she felt light-headed.

Éomer pulled the chair out for Lothíriel, who daintily sat. Then, Éomer took his own seat beside her at the head of the table.

Éomer's voice crisply cut through the atmosphere with the words that all had been anticipating. "Let the feast begin."

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	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you all once again for the divine reviews. I have enjoyed reading the responses so much, and I have felt so guilty for not updating for so long. This chapter is very long and it was hard to write, for I was at a loss to have to word some things in the middle. However, here it is, and I will try to update sooner next time. A word to you all:_

_**Sarian Uldae**: Thank you so much! It is so hard not to stray from cannon and I find myself re-writing many things after I reread. I am glad you like it._

_**LothírielofRohan**: Lol, I understand _exactly_ what you mean by saying Lothíriel is the luckiest girl to marry Éomer. I find myself wishing I were her- or I met someone like Éomer on Earth and married him! Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like it!_

_**merrymagic**: Thank you for pointing out my error. Right when I read it, I changed it and am so glad you caught it. I'm glad you liked the necklace, and the story as well._

_**she1dmaidenofrohan**: Yes, I am playing Lothíriel's fear of horses out, and it goes into depth in this chapter. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for you review. Yes, at times I feel bad for Éomer, but hopefully everything will work out, right:-)_

_**Axa:** I'm glad you like the plots, the necklace, and the story as a whole. Thanks for the great review!_

_**Elijahcat: **I am glad you like the differences in Lothíriel and Éomer and my idea for Lothíriel's talent. Hey, opposites attract, right? Lol, thanks again for the lovely review!_

_**jennierenn, quizzabella, fandun, wondereye, MexDev, and starnat**: Thank you all so much for your kind words and reviews. I am so glad you all are enjoying this!_

_-Mystikal(19)_

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The foods were all delicious. There was a mighty boar in the middle of the grand table, marinated with lemons and spices, a specialty of the cook. Around the main dish there were dishes of vegetables, loaves of bread, potatoes, soups of spiced broths, diced carrots, and peas, corn, and of course the beer that the Rohirrim were so infamous for. The description of ambrosia seemed dwarfed by the meal that lay before the men and kings that the cooks had spent two days preparing for.

Lothíriel ate daintily beside Éomer, sipping a glass of wine for though she did not mind drinking beer, she hated the side effects. The men around were guzzling the ale as if it were water and Lothíriel smirked as she saw her brother Amrothos drinking as much as he could swallow, knowing the next morning it would be fortunate if he rose from bed before noon. All were merry in the Great Hall, and Lothíriel was glad, for perhaps she could too find peace that night.

Once the food was consumed, and the men and women had a moment to rest before the dancing, the tables were moved and the musicians began playing jolly music that was traditional in Rohan. The music, Lothíriel thought, was very charming, and as a tradition, she and Éomer danced the first dance solely, the rest of the populace was to join in during the second strum.

Lothíriel felt Éomer lead her to the middle of the dais to begin the dance. Lothíriel had always loved dancing and she was ecstatic to dance that night, for she had missed the steps from her dancing lessons wholeheartedly. When the couple stopped in the middle, Lothíriel felt Éomer wrap his arms around her, Lothíriel placing a hand on Éomer's waist and holding a corner of her full skirt in her other hand.

The music began to play and the dance began, Lothíriel following the hardened warrior's precise steps, marveling that someone so accustomed to war could behold such grace in a dance step.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Éomer questioned in her ear after a moment of silence. Lothíriel cheeks welcomed a smile.

"Yes. I am having a grand time, Éomer. The food is luscious."

"And the company?"

Lothíriel felt her lips falter, knowing what company he was speaking of. "The company is splendid as well."

"Good," Éomer said softly. "I pray you find Rohan satisfying."

"The people are kind, the lands are magnificent, Meduseld is beautiful…what more could I ask for?" Lothíriel queried. Éomer was pensive for a moment as he dipped Lothíriel back in the pause of the music. He found dancing in front of everyone's criticizing eyes nerve-racking, as if everyone were waiting for him to mess up, but Lothíriel seemed to enjoy it and thus he tried his all to enjoy it if not for himself but for her, his new wife.

Lothíriel's feet moved gracefully and she allowed Éomer to guide her all throughout the dais. Feeling the awkwardness that speaking caused them, the new couple found themselves happy together, for a first since the wedding day. The eyes of watchers bore onto Lothíriel's back and she tried not to look at the ladies of Rohan for fear that they would be furious towards her for taking the title of Éomer's wife. She had not thought of the consequences that an outsider from the Rohirrim court becoming Queen would lead to, until Amrothos jested of the angry women awaiting her arrival to pick at each flaw.

The words had not meant to bring anxiousness to Lothíriel, but they had. Amrothos had been sorry after Elphir and Erchirion had scolded him for bringing more worry to Lothíriel's heart, but it did not erase the frets now occupying others. However, it seemed to Lothíriel that when she danced the worries fell from her in the rush of the steps.

"You dance beautifully," Éomer remarked in her ear after he had turned her with one hand. Lothíriel felt her cheeks flush from pleasure.

"My dance instructors would be pleased, methinks you should send them a letter of gratitude. Perhaps that would help them forgive me for bruising their toes in the process," Lothíriel smiled. The laughter erupting from Éomer's mouth startled Lothíriel at first, but she found herself giggling as well, blissful that she had caused it.

"Many times did I hear from your brothers and Imrahil that you are the epitome of beauty and aristocracy, but never had I heard of the wit that you effortlessly acquire," Éomer approved.

Unable to say anything in response to the highest praise she could remember receiving from a man that was not blood related, Lothíriel merely smiled. Lothíriel could see the satisfied eyes of her family following her throughout the king and her dance. Imrahil's eyes, in particular, looked gleeful as he saw his daughter smiling in the presence of her new husband so genuinely.

When the last strum of the musicians sounded, Éomer lowered Lothíriel back so low Lothíriel found she could not hold herself up. Therefore, her stance solely remained upon her husband's will; if he wished to embarrass her and fall to the floor in a loud crash, gravity would permit it. However, Éomer eased his wife up and she smiled to him, her cheeks faintly flushed in exhilaration. It seemed the two could not keep from smiling that moment, and Imrahil broke it ceremoniously, holding the glass in his hand high.

"My lords and ladies, please be upstanding. I would propose a toast; in occasion of the last dance that all who was present at the wedding ceremony in Rohan. I thank you all for accompanying me on these days where I realize exactly what my next role as a father plays to be- though I do not loath it for the longest road has no turning. Looking at my daughter, I have found the secret to immortality amongst man, for she looks just like my late wife. We, as parents, shall live on, not through our own spirits and selves, but by our children, and their children and so forth. My heart swells in pride as I gaze upon my daughter, and my new son-in-law. So here, I give thee my toast: may the saddest day of your future be no worse than the happiest day in your past. To: Éomer-King and Lothíriel-Queen of Rohan!"

All that were present- be them a nobleman or king- raised their glass as they repeated Imrahil's final sentence. Éomer took Lothíriel's hand in his, placing it on his arm. Taking a sip of their drink, the populace looked back to Imrahil, silently questioning if he was finished.

"King Aragorn," Imrahil's voice rang true and clear after his emotional speech, "have you anything to add?"

All heads turned to the handsome king and his ethereal wife standing at the front of the room. Aragorn was wearing his crown, a tunic of fine material and a smile as he gazed upon his dear friend while Arwen was capturing many green soldiers' breaths away in her satin gown of azure. Raising his glass in turn, Aragorn offered a smile.

"May you both see your children's children; may you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings; may you know nothing but happiness from this day forward." Aragorn paused here for a murmur of assent throughout the crowd. Exchanging a glance with his wife, he finished, "Here's a toast to your enemies' enemies!"

Laughter rang through the Great Hall, and Éomer beamed as his wife laughed along with them. When the noise quieted, Éomer broke it.

"Come, then, my enemies' enemies," he laughed, "join my wife and me in a dance! If you have yet been toasted, what more is there for you to have during a dance in the name of the King and Queen of Rohan?"

More laughter erupted from the hall, and Éomer turned to the musicians.

"Let us speak no more. It is time for dance and song!" he called. Cheering erupted to the ceiling and the musicians began to play once more. Éomer and Lothíriel were joined by the other noblemen and ladies in their dancing.

No sooner did the couple begin to dance did Éowyn and Faramir cut in, smiling as they walked to the two through the crowd. Éowyn's hair glowed and her eyes shown brilliant against her white gown. Faramir looked just as handsome, adorning a smile as he looked to his brother-in-arms and cousin.

"Allow me to dance with Lothíriel, Éomer," Faramir spoke as Éowyn let go of her husband's arm and Éomer nodded.

"Of course," Éomer spoke. Turning, he saw the tankards of ail and a thirsty Amrothos never leaving his post near them. "I was thinking of getting a drink-"

"And deny me the dance, brother? Never!" Taking hold of her brother's arm, Éowyn smiled to her husband and Lothíriel. "Do enjoy yourself, Lothíriel. I know I shall." The two women exchanged smiles.

"Of course, Éowyn," Lothíriel smiled and Faramir nodded and led her away to begin the dance as Éowyn set herself up in Éomer's arms.

When they began to dance, Éomer felt the difference from Éowyn and Lothíriel straightaway. He liked how Lothíriel allowed him the control where they moved to, and allowing him to dip her back or turn her when he wished it. Éowyn, however, steered the two to her heart's desire and her back was stiff and she did not allow him to spin her when the music quickened or slowed in pace.

Nevertheless, Éomer was comforted by the easy talk that he and his sister shared, not having to fear whether he was erring in his words or if she would look away in submissiveness. It was odd that women were so different. Not even the most learned of scholars, Éomer mused, could figure out his sister and wife. It seemed to be the only similarity the two shared and yet they were friends!

"It is so nice to be in Meduseld once more," Éowyn sighed. Éomer nodded.

"I have missed you dearly, sister."

"You shall become accustomed to my absence now that you have a wife." Éomer looked to her sharply, though a twinkle in his eye portrayed his jest.

"And how do you know this? After you received a husband had all thought of me diminished?" he asked pointedly. Éowyn flushed, but stood her ground as she turned Éomer to the right and they continued dancing towards the place where Aragorn and Arwen graced.

"You know the lies to that! I still miss you, but it seems that I would miss Faramir more if I were to be away from him. Know that you always have a place in my heart, mind you, but Faramir is my husband and-" Éowyn rambled in a strained voice. Éomer smiled to her gently.

"Peace, Éowyn. You know I am merely jesting."

Éomer watched as Faramir handed Lothíriel to her father, Imrahil, whose eyes were misty though his smile had never been broader. Faramir took a spot beside Amrothos who was practically swimming in ale, while Erchirion continued to pester the Ladies of Rohan and Elphir and Nienna danced, Alphros had been put to bed after the eating. Pippin and Merry's voices could be heard singing, and Gimli's laugh was audible still through the crowds.

"Forleaswyn is getting larger," Éowyn said as the brother and sister once again lapsed into friendly conversation. Éomer laughed.

"Do not tell her so; she yelled at Éothain half last week after he asked her if she needed to have her dresses altered once again. He tells me he merely said they were slightly tight," Éomer laughed. Éowyn grimaced.

"Men can be such idiots," she exclaimed. "Poor Forleaswyn!" Éomer would have argued further but checked his tongue after he remembered Éowyn's temper was as quick as his own and stayed silent.

After a moment of the silence, Éowyn began to speak once more, her eyes resting on something behind Éomer. "I plan to stay until Forleaswyn gives birth," she admitted, "I wish to see the babe when it is born and what kind of friend would I be if I left? Her midwife and the healers say she should give birth sometime in the next two weeks."

Éomer smiled, wishing Forleaswyn would not give birth for another year if it would keep his sister with him. He hated to see his sister leave him all alone with a melancholic bride, and found that women were harder to care for than a newly weaned colt. "And Faramir?" he asked. Éowyn smiled.

"He shall stay as well, for he thinks that his presence will help settle Lothíriel to her home. However, you were doing a fine job dancing with her this night. Perhaps you are not the arrogant idiotic that I took you to be earlier."

Deeming it best not to say a word, Éomer purely chuckled. The music stopped after the set ended. After a few moments, they began a new song, and Éowyn led Éomer off the dais, proclaiming she wished to have a breath. Lothíriel was still dancing, this time with Legolas, making her rounds of her friends easily.

The brother and sister found a place beside Forleaswyn and Éothain. Forleaswyn was wearing a gown of scarlet, the cut trying to hide her belly but in contrast, it only accentuated it more. Éothain was looking dashing in his finest clothing, although a little uncomfortable, and he did not seem to be having the best time. Éomer mused he had most likely said something offensive yet again, though he shut his mouth before such things could be questioned.

"It is miserable," Forleaswyn remarked to Éowyn as she leaned into her husband as he wrapped an arm around her waist, "that at such a time filled with many dances and feasts that I am pregnant. I wish no more than to dance and look my finest like you, Éowyn, though I suppose it shall be worth it when the babe is born."

Éowyn looked sympathetic. "Your babe will be the pride of you both. Mark my words, this _will_ all be worth it."

Sighing, Forleaswyn held onto Éothain's arm, her eyes filled with such a deep love that all present knew the complaining that they had heard from her lips so often was nothing more than a way to help ease her fears. "I know Éowyn," Forleaswyn smiled, she placed her free hand to her belly. "Never have I ever doubted this."

It was then that Lothíriel joined them, on her last dance partner's arm, Erchirion. They were both looking jovial as they greeted the group gathered at the columns of the Great Hall, separating outside from in. The sun only showed a sliver above the horizon, staining the farthest strip of field the human eye could see a brilliant gold. Erchirion let Lothíriel's hand fall from his arm and he stepped away, as if wordlessly pushing her to speak with Éomer.

Clearing her throat as she realized these unspoken words of advice, Lothíriel looked to her husband, her eyes locking with his own and she felt her heart flutter in her bosom as she kept the gaze. "Would you like to go for a walk outside?" she asked. To explain the question, she added, "The sunset is especially beautiful this night."

Éomer looked to his friends and his sister nodded, her eyes urging as Éomer found his voice. Once he turned his eyes back to Lothíriel, he found she would not meet his gaze again. Nevertheless, he spoke, "Yes, I would like to."

Lothíriel smiled, accepting Éomer's proffered arm, and then turned to the two women and her brother. "If my father comes by, or any other wishing to see me at that, you will tell them where I am, won't you?" she inquired. They all nodded.

"Of course," Éowyn spoke up on behalf of the cluster. She spotted Faramir walking beside Amrothos who was beginning to stumble in a drunken state. Smiling, Éowyn said, "I think I will dance with my husband."

As Éowyn left, so did Lothíriel and Éomer, walking nobly together. Lothíriel tried not to pay heed to the stares of daggers that a few of the women of upper class shot her, but it was hard. The pair walked outside in silence, then to the wall to watch the sunset. Cursing her bashful tongue, Lothíriel realized that she should speak first, for it had been her idea to leave their humble stance amongst friends and family.

Desperately trying to think of something to say, Lothíriel tensed and Éomer felt this in the hand that still rested upon his arm. He knew it was half his fault for her uncomfortable emotions. However, he was just as lost as she was, not knowing what to say for he knew nothing of her, save she could draw, her mother died when she was alone, and she was fearful of horses- yet she thought they were beautiful.

"In comparison, what does the palace of Dol Amroth look like to Meduseld?" Éomer found himself asking. As soon as his mouth closed, he thought himself a fool. Comparing homes when she was his wife and he could speak of anything! Surely, Éowyn was right when she had teased him when he was younger and said he could not woo a brood mare in heat!

"Well," Lothíriel said, her eyes gazing on the horizon easily, "they are both grand and large, though the palace of the Swan Knights is on the sea and has a great wall protecting it from the large surf. The palace in Dol Amroth is white, as well, matching the sea caps splendidly. All around the palace there are neither trees nor vegetation, though there is much sand and building. Though farther out from the walls, the nature is beautifully green and full. You have never seen Dol Amroth?"

"Nay," Éomer said, "My cousin, Théodred did, however. He went on behalf of my uncle King Théoden a few times and said it was magnificent."

Lothíriel was silent for a moment. "I apologize that your cousin fell during the War of the Ring. And your Uncle. Dol Amroth mourned when we learned of King Théoden."

Éomer fell hushed to pensive thoughts and Lothíriel feared she had angered him. She had not, however, and he was merely pondering over the horror that had kept him awake for so many nights and had drawn tears of grief when the world was shut out of his room and he was alone. It had never been his dream to take the crown. It had been his dream to serve his uncle and then cousin the best he could. He wished to serve Rohan, and with the consequences that followed the fall of two heroic men, he had to be king. Éomer found his throat beginning to tighten, cleared it, and spoke.

"Every person walking in these wonderful lands has lost someone dear to them during the war. Be it a king, a brother, son, husband… I apologize as well for your mother," Éomer said. "However, with good must come bad."

"Therefore we should experience a windfall of blessings this year," Lothíriel whispered with trembling lips as she remembered her mother's pale face, calling out hoarsely for her father as she breathed her last and her body trembled in paroxysms. What was Lothíriel, a mere girl, supposed to do in that time? Her father was out of reach and she did not know who to trust with a letter bearing the fears settled in her heart.

"My brother, Erchirion told you of my mother, did he not?" Lothíriel asked. Shamefully, Éomer nodded. "I should have told you myself. You are my husband now."

Offering a raw smile, Éomer said, "If there is anything you wish to know of me, do not feel ashamed or fearful to inquire. Or if there is something you want, all you need to do is ask."

"Thank you," Lothíriel said as she loosened her grip on his arm and sighed.

"Would you like to walk, Lothíriel?" Éomer asked, looking at her earnestly. Lothíriel was hesitant.

"Perhaps we should return inside? I do not wish people to worry of us."

"We are husband and wife, it is not undignified to walk alone," Éomer remarked with a smirk, then he added after another roar of laughter and cheers entered the night from the Great Hall, "And they seem to be having a fine time without us."

Giggling, Lothíriel nodded. "You are right. I would love a walk."

Éomer lead Lothíriel down a flight of steps and they began their walk. It was refreshing for them both to be alone together, and they both were beginning to open up to one another. While Éomer spoke earnestly of past adventures he and Éowyn shared, Lothíriel pondered telling him of her tales with her brothers, even with her mother and first betrothed. Éomer finished yet another humorous tale of him and Éowyn when she had bested him during a quarrel in front of his éored. He had received much bantering afterwards and still to the day. Biting her lip, Lothíriel began to tell him a story of her, revealing for the first time her heart.

"When I was eighteen, I was betrothed for the first time. We were betrothed for a year, and the wedding was often delayed because of the battles leading to the War of the Ring," Lothíriel took a steadying breath, remembering. "He was killed during one of the skirmishes on the northern border of Dol Amroth when it was filled with orcs. All I remember is seeing his horse coming towards me with no rider…"

Éomer's breath caught in his throat. Was this the reason why she was fearful of horses? "Did you love him?" he managed to say nonchalantly. However, his insides were squirming. Had she given her heart to someone else? Was this all a lost cause?

"No," Lothíriel's prim replay restored the flicker of hope in Éomer's mind. "We were best friends and it was only to be expected for us to wed. Our father's arranged it; thinking that our friendship was more than what it was." Lothíriel saw the relief in Éomer's face and felt pleased that he even cared of the issues of her heart.

Their faces lingered close for a moment, and Lothíriel thought that Éomer might kiss her. Her timidity returned and she looked away, to the floor and took in a deep breath, steadying her racing heart. "We should return to the feast," she murmured, though her heart was not sure what she wanted anymore.

Disappointment flashed in Éomer's eyes for a brief moment. "You are right," Éomer said after a pause. They turned and finished their walk back to the Great Hall, where the feast was merely a few hours from ending.

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	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you to all my reviewers once again. All of your words have been greatly appreciated and have helped this story update quicker. However, I am still terribly slow. For this chapter, keep in mind that I have altered one of the folktales of how the Arabian horse was founded to fit this story. I hope you all enjoy it. A word of thanks to my reviewers:_

_**quizabella**: I know if I were Lothíriel, all of those jealous women would definitely keep me on my toes! Who knows what kind of things they may pull! I am so ecstatic you like it, and I hope this chapter continues to bring you enjoyment._

_**BoromirDefender: **I think this chapter will make you happy, for the importance of the necklace is shown here. Glad you have enjoyed thus far! Here's more for you._

_**MexDev**: Thank you! Hopefully, they will love each other in the end, but I dunno your idea of being trapped in a loveless marriage sounds like a twist on Romeo and Juliet that I may like to explore someday… :)_

_**merrymagic**: At times I wish I could truly step inside stories, but I fear that is not possible, yet. Who knows what our scientists will next discover, though. Thank you, I'm glad you like it._

_**starnat**: Yes, that kiss was extremely close! Maybe next time they can actually get close enough for some contact! Lol, glad you like it up to now, I hope this chapter follows suit._

_**Katzilla:** Yeah, I feel bad for poor Éomer too sometimes…though you are right, Lothíriel is beginning to adjust. I hope you enjoy this chapter update, you have no idea how many times I have changed the occurrences!_

_**Deranged Teen:** Yours was probably the first review in history saying the descriptions were 'over the top'. Can I take that as a compliment? Thank you for your praise as well, glad you like it._

_**Princess of Ithilien, Axa, Caz-10-5, Taima1, wondereye: **Thank you all so much for your kind words. I appreciate it so much, and I am so glad that you are finding entertainment in my thoughts. Here's the next chapter, and I hope that you enjoy it just as much as the last._

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The feast had ended several hours prior, and it was morning already. Lothíriel was already gone from the King and Queen's chambers, drawing no doubt, and Éomer was dressing in a velvet embroidered tunic and breeches, trying to look as a king should when he said farewell to Prince Elphir and his family, Legolas, Gimli, the hobbits, King Elessar, and Queen Arwen along with those who had accompanied them.

All nobles inside Meduseld attended the meal that broke the fast, even Amrothos though he complained of a dull throbbing deep inside his head. Éomer grinned, knowing well of the nasty hangovers the Rohirrim ale left those unaccustomed to it. He had drunken his share the past night but did not feel the aftermath. The meal was pleasant, though Éomer's Queen looked downcast, her eyes misty from displeasure at having to say farewell to a part of her family that she would miss sorely.

When the meal was finished, all around people came to watch the departure of the men and women who were to leave. The horses were standing elegantly across the fields of green, shining in the afternoon sun. Aragorn and Éomer exchanged a few words before they left as Lothíriel was kissing her brother's cheek and hugging Nienna and Alphros tight.

"I thank you, for coming," Éomer said to Aragorn. They clasped hands briefly. "Know that Rohan's walls will forever open welcomingly to you."

Aragorn nodded. "And Gondor to you whenever you wish the journey."

Beaming, Éomer laughed, "Was it that long my friend? I did not remember it as long as you make it to be."

The twinkle in Aragorn's eyes returned and he shrugged. "It was not as long as the first time I ventured here, nor as short as the journey we made during the War of the Ring. Anticipation seems to make things long while dread short and you know I did not dread coming here to celebrate with you and your Queen. However, it will suffice to tire my men and me until we are greeted by the warm feast that welcomes us home."

"May your way home prove to be the shortest yet, and the feast the best. Are there any provisions you still need? I would be happy to supply you with anything," Éomer said. Aragorn shook his head.

"Nay, friend, but I thank you behalf of my men and myself for your hospitality and festivities. You have brought happiness over my men who had been growing restless by the peace that these lands still behold," Aragorn said with a smile.

"Béma be praised for the peace, let us hope it lasts forevermore," Éomer said. Aragorn nodded. His horse, Brego, was brought to him and Aragorn smiled, stroking the silken nose with tender fingers.

"We must leave, though I apologize, for if we wish to reach the location where I have chosen to be our first campsite before dark," Aragorn said. Éomer nodded.

"I wish you a dull trek, if only the mere thought that excitement may mean bad tidings," he said. As Aragorn mounted Brego, Arwen steered her horse beside his, looking elegantly poised side-saddled on her horse of brilliant white. Éomer inclined his head, "My lady. I thank you both on behalf of my wife and me for attending our wedding."

After Lothíriel kissed her brother's cheeks, hugged Alphros so tight he was fearful she would break him in two, and embraced Nienna, they too mounted their horses. After a moment of silence, Lothíriel joined her husband as Aragorn called for the riders to begin their journey home. The riders of Dol Amroth would part with the Gondorian riders at the border of Rohan in a few days' time.

Tears pricked Lothíriel's eyes as she watched a half of her family and heart ride away from her, and she never imagined the pain in her heart to be harsher. Later, she would need to watch her own father ride from her with her remaining two brothers! By the stars, how could she do it?

Éomer could feel the tension in the air radiating from Lothíriel and wished to place his arm around her waist to help ease her anxiety. However, if he did it, it would only add to her fretfulness, for she still did not trust him, as he would have hoped. Yes, everything outside the walls of Meduseld were beginning to return to normality, but inside the anxiety was at an all-time high, making Éomer realize there were other battles to fight than those involving swords and bows. There were battles to win over the heart.

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Before sunset, Lothíriel was still melancholic. Forleaswyn and Éowyn decided to take her for a walk to cheer her spirits, though it was terribly hard for Forleaswyn to walk in her current state. Their walk was long and winding through each of the outdoors passages and gardens, ending in the stables.

Lothíriel looked around her once they were inside the stables of gold, and it took all of her propriety not to gasp in wonder. Each stall was adorned in golden etchings along the front; a nameplate with the horses' name near the door opening to inside, and on the nameplate was an etched picture of the chosen horse. To the right of the stalls held the horse's blankets for cold whether, all green and gold for Rohan, and a halter and lead, the colors the same. The barn was enormous, housing many horses, and each horse was so beautiful, though each was different in color and in shape.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" Éowyn pondered as she lingered beside the stall of Firefoot and watched him eye her with a lust in his eyes for food or perhaps a long, hard ride no doubt. Lothíriel nodded, as her eyes traveled the length of the barn with bewilderment.

"Is that your horse?" Lothíriel asked as Éowyn gave Firefoot a handful of some hay that sat beside his stall. Éowyn and Forleaswyn laughed while the magnificent gray stallion bobbed his head, prancing in his stall, and whickered as if joining in the laugh.

"Of course not!" Éowyn said, not noticing the blush creeping onto Lothíriel's cheeks. "Firefoot is Éomer horse; he allows no other to ride him. Is he not a handsome steed? I have tried many times to ride him, and have failed each time, though I have lasted longer than any other."

The gray stallion snorted and pawed, as if showing off his abilities and grace. His eyes were dark and they were very mysterious though they held no aggressiveness, only a challenge.

The three women continued their walk and Lothíriel saw a petite horse that she immediately fell in love with. The horse's profile was dipped, its eyes large. The coat a glistening dark gold, the main and tail a brilliant yellow. The back was short, making the legs and neck look long and graceful. Truly, this was the most beautiful horse Lothíriel had seen.

"That horse," Lothíriel said, "is beautiful. What is its name?"

"She is a mare," Forleaswyn said, "and her name is Aefentid, Rohirric for evening. My husband and yours deemed it fitted her, as her coloring matches that of the sky when the sun sets."

"Éomer owns her?" Lothíriel asked, her fingers longing to touch the tender nose but she was fearful the mare would bite her or shy away.

"Yes," Éowyn spoke, "she is one of his favorites. Though he fears he may need to either give her away or sell her, for he does not want two green horses in addition to Firefoot and if he is to own Rastus, she must go."

Lothíriel looked somber for a moment. "It is a pity."

"Aye, but I am sure a family will take her in and love her just as well as she would be here," Éowyn said. After gazing longingly at Aefentid once more, Lothíriel turned and stood beside Éowyn and Forleaswyn.

They began to walk once more, exiting the barn and closing the doors behind them. Once the doors were securely shut, Éowyn began to walk once more, but Forleaswyn stopped her with a weary look and she placed one hand on the base of her back, her face grimacing faintly. Éowyn looked at her concerned, and then exchanging a glance with Lothíriel, they stood on either side of her.

"What is wrong?" Éowyn asked. Forleaswyn mustered a smile.

"I am not feeling well suddenly, please, could we rest?" she asked. Éowyn and Lothíriel smiled and nodded, sitting on the bench that lined the walkway.

However, after only a moment of sitting, Forleaswyn sharply breathed in, her hand flying quickly to her stomach. Her eyes were beginning to fill with tears and she looked to Éowyn fleetingly. Éowyn looked beside herself with anxiousness and Lothíriel looked as if she did not know exactly what to do, her hands were beginning to shake with wariness.

"Forleaswyn! What is wrong?" Éowyn urged. Forleaswyn's eyes, by now watering, closed.

"At first I thought it was just the babe kicking, but now I am not sure. Think you it is time?" she asked low. Éowyn jumped up and hauled her friend to her feet, linking arms and issuing orders out quickly.

"We must get you to your midwife, it very well could be time now! Come Forleaswyn walk quickly! I wish not for this babe to be birthed on the path to the barns," Éowyn said, near hysterics.

Forleaswyn let out a low groan and with wide eyes she turned to Lothíriel who was trying not to look as anxious as she felt. "Go find Éothain! He is in the sitting room with Éomer as we speak. Oh, Lothíriel, please hurry!"

Lothíriel nodded and grabbed her skirts and ran the rest of the way into Meduseld, to the only sitting room that she remembered the way, praying it was the right one.

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Éomer and Éothain sat in the common sitting room, the curtains let halfway down, dimming the sun that was setting, and its rays were level with the horizon, parallel to the window. They were both holding a mug of ale, speaking of the common happenings of the day, nearly forgetting that the once equal brothers-in-arms were now a captain of the king's éored, and the king himself. It was odd for them both to realize their status differences, though Éothain was anything but envious of Éomer, he realized their standings made their friendship alter if only slightly.

"Éomer, do you plan to work Rastus this night? 'Tis exceptionally fair weather, I deem," Éothain said as he sipped his ale and leaned back in the large chair he sat in.

"I have not taken Firefoot for a ride in several days; perhaps I should ere he becomes too jaded and finds pleasure in harassing the stable hands. It has happened before, do you not remember?" Éomer asked with a twinkle in his eye as he smiled and chuckled.

Éothain nodded. "Béma, you would think Ceorl had never had a horse kick him!" Laughing, he added, "Everyone has had their bad days; he should have counted his blessings Firefoot kicked him in the chest and not the head for he surely would not have had the capability to pack up and leave so quickly!"

Grinning despite the seriousness of the fact, Éomer said, "Ceorl was a bitter young man, I half believe he deserved the kick. I would have done it long before if I were Firefoot; the man barely knew how to pick out their hooves let alone cinch the girth."

"That is why, my friend," Éothain advised, "your steed and you get along so splendidly. It would seem to me – and Éowyn agreed when I told her before – that the two of you share thoughts – if not a brain itself."

Shaking his head in amusement, Éomer said, "My horse is far more stubborn than I, Éothain, I assure you."

"Aye you are extremely yielding," Éothain said. "Is that why you were the youngest member to join the éored, when everyone including myself told you to wait until you were of age?"

"When they accepted me," Éomer insisted, "you immediately finished your training to join me, Éothain!"

"It 'twas not me who lied and said I was not stubborn." A wicked smile spread across his face as Éothain said these words, "You are even stubborn trying to prove you are not stubborn!"

Throwing his hands into the air, Éomer appeared irritated, though the grin catching his lips gave away his jesting. "I am proud, aye, a fearless and valiant warrior of Rohan aye as well. But only a touch of stubbornness is in my blood."

Éothain had more words to exchange good-heartedly, but it was then that the doors burst open, to reveal a white-faced Lothíriel. It appeared she had been running, for she was winded and breathed harshly as she fled inside. Éomer stood immediately, setting down his mug and striding to her side at once. Éothain remained seated, however, thinking the situation did not involve him – or at least hoping it did not. It took Lothíriel a few moments to catch her breath, and in them, Éomer pressed her for what was wrong.

"Éothain," Lothíriel gasped out finally, "it is time!"

"It is time for what?" Éothain persisted, standing as well and shortening the distance between them.

"Forleaswyn – it is her time to give birth to the babe!"

Some color drained from Éothain's cheeks, though a smile tugged at his cheeks. Éomer clapped his friend on the back and beamed. When nothing was said, Lothíriel spoke.

"Think you that you should go to your wife in her time?"

"Yes – yes, of course," Éothain said at once, half bewildered. The two men followed Lothíriel out of the sitting room and idleness and down hallways to the precious ceremony bringing a new life into the world.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

The two men sat outside of Éothain and Forleaswyn's chamber; the midwife would not allow them inside, as it was traditional that the father-to-be would not see their son or daughter's birth. It was not a particularly strict tradition, but a tradition all the same, as old as the building they lived inside. They had sat in the chairs for a good hour at least; Éomer was beginning to feel drowsy as Éothain stood and began to pace once more.

"Sit, my friend," Éomer called, stretching his stiff legs and leaning his head back on the top of the chair. An agitated Éothain nodded, turning to pace one last length before he eased himself back into the chair, his face troubled.

"How long think you it lasts?"

"What? The birth?" Éomer asked. Éothain nodded as his friend shrugged. "I would not know. I do not remember when my mother had Éowyn, and have not attended other births. Are births of children similar to births of horses?"

Éothain's eyes narrowed in jest. "Are you comparing the birth of my son to a foal?"

"Are you so sure it is a son and not a daughter?"

"A daughter would not be so large, nor would it cause my wife such pain. I am sure it is a son."

"I would not speak such thoughts until it is certain, how foolish you would look calling your daughter 'large and one who causes pain'," Éomer advised, "I know you had no sisters, but if I were to use those adjectives upon Éowyn, she would undoubtedly become offended and irate."

The truth to these words sent Éothain into his pacing, and Éomer closed his eyes, the hour was late and he was exhausted. For yet another hour, they stayed like this, by now Éomer was asleep and Éothain was beside himself, near breaking through the door to see what was happening. The speaking quieted for a moment, making Éothain's ears strain in anxiety, and footsteps echoed to a stop near the door. It opened ever so quietly, only a crack, allowing the petite form of the raven-haired Queen through. She turned and shut the door, the gauzy green fabric of her shawl she wore slipped off one shoulder, and she fixed it as she turned.

"The contractions are growing greater," Lothíriel said. "Though there are signs that the birth will not take place for yet a few more hours. Forleaswyn is in great pain, she wishes you inside with her be there a tradition or not. The midwife thinks it is best as well."

This sent a scowl upon Éothain's lips. Cursed be upon him for making her endure such horrible pain! Such a beautiful woman, his wife, he would have to watch tears in her eyes. It must be great pain if she wished to overlook traditions for Forleaswyn had honored all traditions of Meduseld to an exasperating extremity.

"And you, my lady?" Éothain asked. Lothíriel eyes drifted to her sleeping husband.

"The midwife and Éowyn tell me to sleep. They tell me to have Éomer to sleep as well; it is no use to have us all exhausted of the morrow," Lothíriel informed. Éothain nodded. After Lothíriel opened the door vaguely for Éothain, she said, "If we are not back ere the babe is born, send for us."

Nodding, Éothain slipped through the door and closed it after him. Lothíriel turned to wake her husband, if only to find that his dark eyes were open, and he was looking at her with tender eyes – or perhaps they were sleepy eyes, Lothíriel mused. Whichever they were, they were handsome, and Lothíriel felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. "Did you hear…?" she asked.

"Yes. Let us go to our chambers for the night, I am very tired." Éomer rose, offered his arm for Lothíriel who accepted it gracefully and the pair walked to their room, the moon at its highest peak for the night, the stars glittering through the windows faintly lighting the walls of the corridors.

Lothíriel touched the beloved gold and emerald necklace she given by her husband around her neck with her free hand, and Éomer noticed. Smiling, he said, "I am pleased you like the necklace. It is a tradition of Rohan for the Queen to own it, since Éorl made it for his wife."

Not knowing it was as valuable as it was truly, Lothíriel pondered upon the story that could be behind its greatness. Éomer longed to tell his wife the story, but was unsure, for if she did not ask him to tell it to her, perhaps she did not want to hear it. He pressed this fact for though he was blunt, he wished her to ask him of it.

"There is a fine story behind it as well."

Lothíriel's eyes caught his for a brief moment. "Would you tell it to me?"

They were the words Éomer had hoped she would say. Nodding, the grin on Éomer's face was hard to erase when he began his tale. "There is a tale that Béma had a herd of horses every color and size in the West. For four days' time, he allowed none of his horses to drink water. Not one drop of water allowed upon their tongues, swollen from thirst, and each was nearly ill from dehydration. On the fifth morning, he opened the gates to the wells, and the horses galloped to the water in blind thirst, their bellies aching for the water. Then, he blew upon the horn that called for war. None save six of the horses remained to help their lords in what they thought was to be a war. These six horses, four mares and a stallion of pure white and one bay were of the best bloodlines and strength in both their knowledge and heart. Béma separated them from the other horses and bred them, creating the master-horse race of the _Mearas._

"The six horses that make up your necklace are the six that began the _Mearas'_ bloodlines. Each one crafted after the horse's rumored appearance, and the emerald in the middle surrounded by gold stands for Rohan, where the _Mearas_ now reside. It had been before Gandalf rode Shadowfax that only the Kings of Rohan could ride the _Mearas. _That is why the Queen wears the necklace representing the story of their race's birth."

"What a beautiful story," Lothíriel said softly, her hand stroking the emerald stone on the necklace that looked so perfectly with her beautiful golden skin that it could have been made for her. "I am honored to wear it."

The two walked inside their chambers and Éomer shut the door behind him. Before Lothíriel could leave the room, he said, "And Rohan is honored for you to wear it."

A pleased blush crept onto the Queen's cheeks and her hand strayed on his arm. After a moment, Lothíriel left him with a mere coy smile, and left to change into her nightgown. Éomer, thoroughly pleased with the reaction that his words called, for once felt as if his actions and the consequences that followed were purely pleasurable. It would be a serene night for the newly wed couple, alas not for two of their friends.

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	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you all for your kind reviews! I was so anxious to get this chapter up, for the next will be quite a lot of fun! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and a happy summer to you all, I hope it is filled with heat, the beach, cool drinks, and family – oh yeah, happiness too. :)_

_**quizabella**: Thank you! You picked up with Lothíriel handling Aefentid easily, I thought I hid it well, lol. Well, you should like this chapter, then. In addition, yes, I loved those lines about horses/babies too. Men can be such idiots at times!_

_**neatard**: Thank you!_

_**shie1dmaidenofrohan:** Yay, school is out! Well, for me it is, I hope it is for you too. Now you can read my story all you want, lol. Here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it as much as the last._

_**Princess of Ithilien:** Wording _is_ tricky! I want to fix them, but I have no idea how to reword the wordings that I jumbled up. I try my best, though. Thank you, and I hope you like this chapter._

_**LadyArian: **Thank you, I'm glad my view of Lothíriel has caught your fancy._

_**merrymagic: **I'm glad you liked the story, I was anxious to see how people took to it. I'm experiencing anxiety for this chapter too, so I hope you like it._

_**steelelf**: Nope, you hadn't reviewed before. Thanks for reviewing. I am hurrying as much as I can, though it is terribly slow. Recent events (i.e. family reunions, graduations, etc.) have helped delay this – not mentioning I am a perfectionist and say "Just one more read-through" and 1 turns to 5, lol. Glad you like it, and here is the next._

_-Mystikal(19)_

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The soft tapping outside their door awakened Éomer immediately from his light sleep. He made a move to get up, but when he turned on his side, he found that one of Lothíriel's arms had moved onto his chest, her dark curls haloing her face. She was dressed in a nearly sheer fabric of blue, the same thing she wore on their wedding night. It was the first time Éomer had seen her asleep.

His breath caught in his throat at the innocence of his wife. Her luscious lips parted slightly as she breathed, and her skin glowed in the faint light of dawn's arrival. The anxiety was gone from her brows and she looked so peaceful though they were touching, for even if she was asleep the contact was still there. Lothíriel must have been exhausted, for as the tapping continued, she slept on, her face in a contentment that increased Éomer's fine mood.

The tapping had stopped and Éomer tried to stand without waking her and he was triumphant. After pulling a cloak , he walked to the door and opened it faintly, only enough to see a maid outside, looking tired and exhausted, but a smile was upon her lips. Realizing why this woman was there, Éomer smiled as well.

"My lord Éothain and lady Forleaswyn wish me to bring you this news: A son has been born," the woman said, her wrinkled face creased into a smile. Éomer beamed at this news.

"How fares Forleaswyn?" he asked instantaneously. The woman continued to smile, nodded and clasping her hands to her hips happily.

"She is wonderful, milord."

"Have they decided upon a name?" asked he.

"Yes milord. It is to be Théodric."

Éomer smiled. It was a fine name, and he was sure the boy would bring honor upon his family when he was older, or perhaps even when he was a mere child. "Is the midwife accepting visitors?"

"Yes, the birth finished an hour earlier, and Éowyn told me not to get my lord and lady ere the sun rose."

"Inform the couple that I will be joining them momentarily," Éomer said, pausing for the woman to acknowledge his words and then shutting the door softly. He turned to dress, but saw his wife sitting up in bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes, a smile prominent on her features. He spoke, "Did you hear…?"

She nodded. "Aye." After a hush, Lothíriel pushed the heavy blankets off her body, pulling the gauzy sleeping clothes into place and stood. "I will join you to see the new babe and his family."

They dressed hurriedly in plain clothing, and took little time in fussing over appearances. They were out of the door and walking down the hallways to the birth room in few moments. Lothíriel was holding Éomer's arm as she hurried, her hair still messed from sleeping, and who knew if she had all the strings tied correctly on her gown for she had had no handmaid help her into the contraption she chose to wear.

The King and Queen of Rohan entered the birth room shortly after, meeting a dozing Forleaswyn in her bed, a frantic midwife bustling about the room though everything was completed, and Éowyn joined by Éothain seated beside the bed. Forleaswyn looked up, seeing Éomer she sat straighter, her belly gone and although she was not as petite as before the pregnancy, she was clearly smaller. In her arms lay a bundle of blankets, and inside the bundle of blankets lay a child.

"Ah, Éomer," Éothain said as he sat up and strode to shorten the distance between the two friends. The men clasped hands and Éomer smiled to the ecstatic new papa, whose eyes were large and bright.

"Congratulations, Éothain, Forleaswyn," Éomer said as he looked to the new mother. She smiled; her hair was damp with sweat across her brow. Lothíriel stood beside her husband.

"Come see him," Forleaswyn said as she leaned forward and held the babe out so they all could see.

The babe was the sweetest thing that anyone had seen for a very long time. He looked the spitting image of his father. Loose golden curls covered his head adorably, amber eyes touched with blue blinked ere they closed to sleep once more. His skin color, however, was the same as Forleaswyn's complexion, being slightly lighter than Éothain, nevertheless was sun-kissed. He was not a small child, but not enormous either, plump from health.

"Would you like to hold him?" Forleaswyn asked to Lothíriel. Lothíriel nodded, accepting the babe and holding him delicately, and marveling at how much he looked like his parents.

Théodric's eyes opened as he felt a new person holding him, but he did not cry when he saw Lothíriel. His mouth opened a tiny bit, a little drool escaped, but Lothíriel wiped it aside with the blanket and merely giggled. The tiny babe was adorable, and he was everything any parent would ask for.

Lothíriel could feel Éomer beside her, and he asked to hold little Théodric. Lothíriel nodded, handed over the child, and marveled out how gentle Éomer held the child in his massive war-hardened hands. The King held the child, his light brown eyes peering down at Théodric with a look so tender and kind that it nearly stole Lothíriel's breath away.

The hardened warrior – it seemed to Lothíriel – was not an affectionate man but this moment proved her wrong. His arms were delicately holding the precious life of a tiny innocent child while his eyes were twinkling in delight for the new parents. He was speaking low to the child of things none in the room could hear, and he was fighting back a smile as he finished his words. Éomer took hold of one of the tiny hands, fat with infancy, and his face broke out in a dashing smile as he held it, and the babe long before had fallen asleep.

"Look at this grip, brother," Éomer said to Éothain, his smile broadened and Lothíriel felt her heart beat faster at how striking he appeared and yet so approachable. "He will be a fine Rider of Rohan when he turns the appropriate age."

Éothain laughed, "I shall have him riding ere he walks, and perhaps he can even join the éored sooner than you in age. What say you Forleaswyn?"

The young mother leaned back against the bed and shook her head mirthfully. "Who can say, my love? Perhaps he shall."

Lothíriel was deaf to the world, however, for all she could hear and see was the man who she had wed. She had never seen him as careful then as he stood there with the child in his arms, marveling at the greatness that this child could bring. Who could have known that the warrior-King could become so caring for a child? Could he be this caring for his wife? Lothíriel prayed it was so.

"Théodric is the perfect blend of you both," Éowyn said as she took the child from her brother's arms and held him tenderly. She smiled. "It makes me wish to have a child myself." Éomer snorted ungentlemanly, breaking the ethereal greatness Lothíriel had seen illuminating from him unceremoniously.

"Why do you laugh, brother?" Éowyn demanded her eyes critical.

"If you had a son he would be of sharp tongue and little whit, and if it a daughter she would thunder through the halls of your home wildly throughout her life, scaring off noblemen and womenfolk alike." Éowyn scowled as Éomer and Éothain both laughed.

"If I had not this child in my arms, brother, I would do more than 'scare you'," she snapped.

"And that is why Théodric is my favorite babe, sister," Éomer said as he crossed his arms in front and beamed. Éowyn shook her head.

"I will not hold this child my entire life, remember, so you should watch your words."

Éowyn handed Éothain his son, and the young man looked down upon the boy in his arms with an impudent grin, his eyes shining with pride. The child in his arms relaxed whenhe recognized the touch of the man who had been present of his birth though untraditionally. Éothain had never been prouder of anything in the world, and this statement was on his face, his smile broad as he looked to his wife with loving eyes and then down upon his joy, the boy he and his wife's love had created. He looked up to the group about him.

"Remember when we were younger, Éomer? I pray my son does not do all of the ignorant things we had done," Éothain laughed.

It was then that the midwife ordered them all out of the room save the father of the babe, so the mother could receive proper rest. They all acquiesced, Éomer leaving to speak with Elfhelm of something, leaving Éowyn and Lothíriel alone. Lothíriel turned to Éowyn as they began to walk, looking at the young woman as she pondered whether she should speak of what she was thinking. All she could see was the handsome face of her husband as he stood with his arms about the tiny bundle of a child, his eyes merrily glowing as he bantered with Éothain and whispered words to Théodric. She had never seen that man, and she hoped with her whole heart that he would return, if only to treat her as well. Lothíriel knew that to find that man, she had to do something that would bring him happiness, and she knew exactly what that task would be.

Lothíriel linked arms with Éowyn as they were walking, and she exchanged a devious grin with the young woman, her eyes twinkling with the thought that all could be well in merely a week if her plan followed through. She could bring peace under the marriage that they had agreed to, and with all her heart, that was all Lothíriel wanted. She wanted herself to be happy, moreover Éomer to be happy as well.

"What is that smile for?" Éowyn asked with a wicked giggled, knowing very well the look that caught in Lothíriel's eyes for it had played in her own many times.

"I have a plan," Lothíriel admitted. Éowyn smiled.

"For what?" she asked.

"Catching your brother's eye, and providing happiness evermore." Éowyn's eyebrows rose. Such things sounded perfect, but could it be?

"And the plan is…?"

"I want to learn to ride horses. Moreover, I wish to learn to ride Aefentid for if I ride her, Éomer will surely keep her," Lothíriel said, proud of her idea. Éowyn, however, looked doubtful.

"Aefentid is a green mare, she is stubborn, and Éomer bought her for _him_ to ride. He is an amazing rider, Lothíriel, Aefentid is not an easy horse to handle," Éowyn informed. Her words, however, did not daze the steadfast Lothíriel from dismissing her idea.

"If I could only try, Éowyn… If Éomer bought Aefentid, she is obviously not savage! She will not _kill_ me," Lothíriel said impishly. Surely, Éowyn would agree! Why would she not? Lothíriel felt anger rise in her throat, one of the few friends she made would not support her genius idea!

"I thought you were afraid of horses, Lothíriel. What made you change your mind?" Éowyn asked, truly stunned that the woman that stood so far away from everything was ready to dive in and try to do something that could prove to be dangerous – especially to ride a horse green with knowledge.

"I wish to do whatever I can to make happiness. Is that not the role of a wife?"

Éowyn could not help but laugh.

"Lothíriel, the role of a wife is to love and be loved."

"That is why I need to learn to ride! If I do, Éomer will love me."

"He _will_ if you would speak to him like you speak to me," Éowyn pointed out. Lothíriel's face fell.

"It would be easier to learn to ride then to speak with him for me, Éowyn. Please, if you teach me, happiness will be the future. It would be _such_ a great experience, I think. I want to conquer my fears of horses, for with them, I feel that I will conquer my fear of Éomer." Lothíriel was desperate. If Éowyn would not help her, who could she turn to?

Sighing, Éowyn nodded. "Fine. If this is what you wish for, I will help you."

Lothíriel squealed and threw her arms around Éowyn. "Oh _thank you_! Thank you!"

Éowyn could not help to smile and think, _Let us hope you still thank me when you fall for the first time_.

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"Elfhelm!"

The elder man turned, looking for who had called his name. It was none other than Éomer, looking rather pleased with himself for a reason that Elfhelm would bet would do with his beautiful wife. Elfhelm smiled at the young boy who he had guided through his first years as a part of the Eastfold's éored. The boy had grown into a valiant young man, Elfhelm deemed, every bit as loyal to his people as his country. He would make to be a fine king.

"Aye, my King?" Elfhelm asked. Éomer cringed at the words though he did not speak of it as they were under the eyes of the savage court for though it was more lenient than Gondor, a court was a court.

"I have a favor to ask of you," Éomer said as they began to walk. Elfhelm nodded.

"I will do it if it is in my power."

"I thank you," Éomer said. Elfhelm nodded. "Come walk with me, I wish to show you something."

They walked for several minutes until they were outside, Éomer looking intently upon an open piece of land that lay some yards off the western side of the Golden Hall. It was a flat piece of land, treeless, though the grass was glowing golden from the sun. The land stretched for a few yards, and it was elevated slightly on the same bluff that Meduseld sat upon overlooking the land of Rohan. Éomer looked proud as his eyes gazed over the land, though Elfhelm was dubious of what he had to be proud of by a bit of golden grass blades.

"May I ask, Éomer, of what you are looking at?" Elfhelm finally voiced. Éomer laughed, nodding.

"Of course. That land is empty, and ownerless, correct?"

"Aye."

"Then I would own it, correct?" Éomer persisted.

"It appears to be so," Elfhelm affirmed. He turned to Éomer. "But why do you care so of this piece of land? What more does Meduseld need?"

"You know my wife draws, Elfhelm, correct?" The elder warrior nodded. "I want to give her a room to sit in when she awakes, with an open window so she can look over the lands of her people and draw until she is content. I have been through each room in Meduseld and no window is large enough to see out properly enough to draw what you see, and I do not want her sitting outside in the winter snow just to draw, so I need you to help me build her a room to draw inside. What do you think, my friend?"

"I think you are crazy, Éomer," Elfhelm said, his beard twitching into a smile. "But I shall help you. How do you plan for the layout to be?"

Éomer pulled a parchment from his cloak and unrolled it, revealing a crudely drawn blueprint for the room. It had four straight walls with large cut-outs that could open to make a window, but close when not used. There were drawings to include a fireplace and a door leading outside on the far north side. It was a small room, but it would do and prove to be enough work.

"Your wife needs to teach you to draw," Elfhelm noted as he looked upon the crooked lines and horrible box that represented a fireplace. Éomer chuckled.

"Perhaps she will when I have this built."

"Perhaps you should show her these plans to make sure she even wants it." Elfhelm looked to the plans once more. To be honest, it looked as if she would love it, but one could never be sure with women.

"I want it to be a surprise," Éomer said, though this spoken thought proved to bring him anxiousness. Maybe she really would hate it! What would he do then?

"And it shall be a surprise then, my King. Mark my words; we will make her love this."

Elfhelm clapped his dearest pupil on the shoulder, smiling at the wonderful man he had made to be. Éomer was the closest thing to a son that Elfhelm had ever had, for though he was married, his wife had never been able to conceive a child.

Éomer smiled, looking to the barren piece of land, imagining the wonderful sight of the walls standing tall and straight, the windows perfect. And his wife? She would be ecstatic when she saw the new building; she would fling her arms around his neck and give him kisses like she had on their wedding night. He rubbed his hands together, barely containing the anticipation welling inside his chest.

"When do we begin?" Elfhelm asked.

"What do you say of tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is a fine day to begin, Éomer."

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

It was evening, and the couple was getting ready to go to sleep after they had visited Forleaswyn, Éothain, and Théodric and said goodnight. The little child was sleeping peacefully, an angel in his mother's arm who was in fine condition. Éothain was exhausted, more than his wife it appeared, for he had circles underneath his eyes though his smile had never been broader.

"What are your plans of the morrow, Lothíriel?" Éomer asked, praying she had something to do so he could escape to begin the building. Lothíriel had prayed he would not ask this question, for what should she say?

"I am spending it with Éowyn," Lothíriel said, leaving off the part that she was going to ride Aefentid for fear he would object, and a subconscious want that he would be surprised and pleased when she showed him.

"Again?" Éomer was surprised that the two women were such good friends when they were as different as night and day.

"Yes…" Lothíriel said slowly, "is there anything I have forgotten?"

"No!" Éomer grit his teeth as he realized his panic over what Lothíriel would think to be nothing. She looked at him oddly. He thought quickly to cover the false tale. "I am meeting with Elfhelm, to speak of the conditions of the Eastfold."

"Should I not come?"

"No…it is only a small matter and I do not want to anger Éowyn for canceling your arrangements."

Lothíriel nodded, vaguely anxious over the fact he did not want her present at his councils. Was he embarrassed to have her as a wife? She was very diplomatic – or her father said she was – and she liked to explore the art of international relations. Was Rohan more different than she had anticipated and did not share Dol Amroth in women's rights? Lothíriel did not think it was so, for after Éowyn defeated the Witch King, why would Rohan shun her women?

After she finished dressing in her night garb, Lothíriel slid inside the covers, her husband already there and by the looks of it, he was nearly asleep. Lothíriel blew out the candles that were still lit beside the bed, and in pitch darkness, she tried to speak with him, thinking without those intense eyes bearing into her she would be less timid.

"Good night, Éomer," she said, her little voice echoing in the quiet.

"Good night, Lothíriel," Éomer's voice was booming, seemingly two times louder, and stronger. So maybe she was wrong about her predictions. But in a few days, he would be so overjoyed that she learned to ride for him, he would be so approachable and so would she…

Lothíriel sighed into her pillow. If only reality was like her fantasies for her world would be like no other. She would try, nevertheless, to fulfill her wildest dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you to all my kind reviews! I am so glad you are enjoying this. This next chapter has nothing very exciting in it (that will be the next chapter, once I have it written) but it is a very important part in the story and I hope you all enjoy it. A word to my reviewers:_

_**Blue Eyes At Night: **Haha, that _is _basically what they are doing! I'm so happy you are enjoying this and thank you for your praise._

_**Princess of Ithilien: **I'm glad you think it is interesting. I was nervous that it would feel old and used, but it does not seem to so far! Let us just hope when I attempt to write romance it does not come out bad! Thank you._

_**KatzillaTimmy2222: **Now you know how _I _feel when you write all your actions and suspense and leave me hanging on a cliffy! And now I know how _you_ feel! Pretty good, in actuality. I think I'm just going to let you suffer! Haha, I don't think I have enough money for your dentist bills! Sorry, if I'm ever rich though, I'll buy you some denchers if you need 'em. :)_

_**Nan75: **I'm so glad your very first LOTR section viewing (mine! Oh, that sounds so cool!) was good and didn't scare you away. Thank you so much, and sorry it is so late._

_**wondereye: **Wouldn't that just be so sweet for a newly wed husband to do if they are good with their hands? However, even the smallest acts of love are appreciated! I'm glad you like it thus far. Thanks!_

_**quizzabelle: **Yes there is romance in the air but both Lothíriel and Éomer are so oblivious they don't know it yet. In reality in little pieces, they are very similar, but on a whole they are complete differences like the sun and moon. Lothíriel and Aefentid…ah, that comes in this chapter! Enjoy._

_**madrone: **Yes, Hooray for love, for without it, the world would be a much more peaceful place. Haha, just kidding! I'm a romantic, so if anything is too mushy, please tell me. Thank you for your praise._

_**Daughter of Roses: **I'm so sorry I took so long to review! I'm not making any promises, but next chapter I will _tryhard_! Thank you so much for your praise, it made my day!_

_**LadyArian, Steelelf, Merrymagic, lindaholyland, fleur137: **Thank you all so much for your kind and encouraging words. I am so glad you like this, and here is the next installment, I hope you continue to love it!_

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

Early the next morning, Éowyn and Lothíriel escaped the halls of Meduseld with Aefentid and Éowyn's mare into a clearing some distance away from the Golden hall. For Lothíriel's sake, the two led their horses on lead lines to the designated area but still, Lothíriel was awkward as she held onto the rope and was fearful for having her feet stepped on, or her horse run wild after she spooked… Éowyn said to not fear, but this statement did not seem to stem Lothíriel's nervousness.

Éowyn had told Lothíriel to perform each task for the horse on the left side. Lothíriel nodded, and tried diligently to keep Aefentid's head the same height as her shoulder, and tried to keep the horse's legs rhythm the same as her own. Éowyn noticed this and said that things involving horses did not need to be perfect, but Lothíriel was steadfast in trying to be the best she could be.

When the two women reached the clearing, they came to a large arena with plain wooden fences. Éowyn told Lothíriel that this was an old training arena for either green horses or young riders. Either way, it was far enough away from the loud noises of everyday to keep the horse from spooking, yet close enough so the young rider could walk to the arena instead of riding. In both cases, it was good for Lothíriel and Aefentid for they were both beginners. Éowyn still deemed that Lothíriel should ride a horse with more experience and voiced this often, but Lothíriel would have no part of it. Éowyn had decided to not to teach Lothíriel side saddle, for she was not fond of it.

"To mount the horse," Éowyn began her lesson, "you place your left foot in the left stirrup and swing your right foot over the back of the horse and into the other stirrup." Éowyn demonstrated this a few times and explained it again. Lothíriel nodded, deciding it would not be hard. "Are you ready, Lothíriel?"

"Yes," Lothíriel said with a confidence that vaguely reminded Éowyn of her brother.

Placing her leg high up in the stirrup of the left side, Lothíriel stepped down in it harshly, and swung herself up into the saddle. All seemed perfect so far, and Lothíriel's head only swam slightly as she looked down from the height she was at. Éowyn tied her mare to the fence and took hold of the reigns of Aefentid. She showed Lothíriel how to hold the reigns properly; thumbs on top of the reigns, pinkies slightly bent below, and then she taught her that the reigns were only for minor guidance.

"In majority, you guide your horse with your legs, but you also use your weight in the saddle, which you need not worry ere you become familiar with everything else. Squeezing with both means to go faster, and squeezing with the left side, she will turn to the right and the right she will turn to the left. The walk is the slowest gait, trot a two-beat gait, canter a three-beat gait, and gallop is a faster version of the canter. Understand?" Éowyn asked. Lothíriel nodded.

"Yes."

"Are you ready to try to walk?"

Lothíriel said she was and at first Éowyn led her around the arena. When Lothíriel's hands stopped shaking in fear, Éowyn let go of the reigns and let the woman have complete control of the horse. Everything was perfect, Lothíriel's posture was divine, her feet pointed forward, heels down, and her hands were bobbing with the movement of Aefentid's head. It seemed to Éowyn Aefentid had not realized Lothíriel was a beginner, but when that time came, Aefentid would take advantage of Lothíriel.

"Would you like to trot?" Éowyn asked when all had turned perfectly. Lothíriel nodded. "Cluck your tongue, like this, and squeeze your legs, give her more reigns."

Lothíriel did as she was bid, sat back in the saddle as the horse moved into a quicker gait, and to the beginner, a terribly bouncy gait at that. After a few times around the arena, Lothíriel began to laugh at the odd feelings that the gait brought her belly. When Aefentid realized that her rider was not paying attention, she took the bit into her teeth and began to quicken her pace without breaking into a canter. Lothíriel felt her body lurch, and then at a rapid turn by her mare, she lost a stirrup and Aefentid hurried even further. Éowyn stood, trying to grab the reigns of the mare as Aefentid passed her, but missed horribly. She began to yell instructions to Lothíriel, but Lothíriel's head was swimming with fear. Finally, when Aefentid broke into a canter and turned a tight corner, Lothíriel fell.

The impact with the ground was not before Lothíriel hit her shoulder on the wooden fence. It all seemed to be in slow motion and Lothíriel bit back a cry when she landed on her back and all air escaped her lungs in a flurry. Trying to regain breathing, Lothíriel lay there, paralyzed with fear. Finally, gasping, Lothíriel's breath came back and Éowyn hurried to her friend's side.

"Are you okay?" Éowyn insisted as Lothíriel nodded.

"I am fine," she admitted as Éowyn helped her to her feet. Lothíriel winced as she placed her hand on her shoulder, her dress torn and the skin underneath already showing a vast lavender bruise, threatening to darken. It was the size of a fist and Lothíriel felt her aching back cry out as she straightened.

"Did you get the wind knocked out of you?" Éowyn asked. Lothíriel nodded. "It's startling, huh?" Lothíriel could only nod as she saw Aefentid eyeing her with a humorous gaze from across the arena with grass in her mouth.

Lothíriel felt indignant, though she could not stay irate at the beautiful mare laughing at her clumsiness.

"Come, let us get you up onto that mare again," Éowyn broke Lothíriel's reverie after a moment. Lothíriel was not sure if she had heard right.

"I am not getting back onto that mare! Look at what she did to me! I will do it again…tomorrow. I do not feel ready to try to continue today. I am…tired." Lothíriel's voice wavered.

"Nay, you will get onto her this instant for if you do not, your fear for horses will only be greater than it was before. I thought you wanted to impress Éomer by your riding skills. He will not be impressed if you are anymore afraid of horses, especially his own, Aefentid," Éowyn said. Lothíriel felt her cheeks flush.

"He will not be 'impressed' if I end up with a broken arm or leg," Lothíriel retorted. Éowyn laughed.

"You will not break any bone in your body, Lothíriel. When you were walking and trotting at first, you looked like a natural. Now, we need to stop you from getting distracted and not paying attention. No laughing, no matter how amusing the gait feels. If you laugh when you are trying to gallop, Aefentid will throw you easier than you can imagine. I should know I have been thrown that way many times…"

By the end of their lesson, Lothíriel had fallen three times. Five bruises lay in various places on her body, two on her right leg, one on her left forearm, and the other on her right shoulder. She had threatened to quit after the third time to Éowyn, but the stubborn woman forced her upon the horse and said that Aefentid had looked nearly sorry after she threw her the last time. Lothíriel had to admit that by the last ride around the arena at a quick paced trot, she felt like she was flying. The sun was completely up in the sky by that time, and inside Meduseld, they were serving the mid meal already.

"Let us go back, you are tired, and have stayed on for quite some time. Tomorrow we will continue. You were fabulous today, Lothíriel, I am truly proud to be called your teacher," Éowyn smiled as she helped her friend down from the saddle.

"Do your legs always ache when you get off?" Lothíriel questioned as she winced and walked.

Éowyn laughed. "_Mine_ do not, but yours should since you are a beginner."

Lothíriel followed Éowyn from the arena.

"Come, let us put the horses up and then we can get something to eat," Éowyn suggested. Lothíriel nodded, her growling stomach thanking her friend with a small roll of hunger. It appeared that skipping a light snack in the morning was not her best idea.

However, "putting up the horses" seemed more thorough then Lothíriel had thought it would be. First, they took of the tack. Then, they combed through the mares' mains and tales. After that, they brushed off the sweat from their bodies, and filled their troughs with water and placed a fresh bale of hay in their stalls for them to eat.

When they were finished, they wandered into the Golden Hall to eat something themselves, having been famished from all of the hard work.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

Though the constructions on the building for his wife went smoothly, Éomer had been busy most of the day with it. He had asked Gamling to get his wife and somehow distract her from leaving Meduseld so she would not see her surprise until it was finished, but he knew Lothíriel had a mind of her own sometimes and liked to wander wherever her heart lead her. While he would not admit it to himself, they both shared that quality.

Elfhelm brought Éomer back to present time when he asked, "What do you think of it so far?"

Éomer surveyed the flat flooring lined with wood, and then one of the walls already standing erect. It had taken them so long to get that wall up and strong, and they still had three more to go! Then, they had the roof to thatch, the windows to finish, the door to hang, and the furniture inside to build. How long would this take them to finish? Could he stall Lothíriel enough to build it without her noticing his absence or the building at one side of Meduseld?

"It is very nice," Éomer observed aloud, running one hand over the smooth wall, and then once again feeling the floor that his friend Éothain had put together perfectly. Éomer and Elfhelm had worked on the walls, and tomorrow they would continue while Éothain began to thatch straws for the roof.

"If you find something 'wrong' with that floor once more, you can level it yourself," Éothain said as he placed the file that he had been smoothing the flooring down for the past two hours. Éomer grinned as his hand felt the even floorboards and did not find any flaws.

"Do not worry my friend, I find no slivers or uneven patches," Éomer said.

"Good," Éothain observed in a sarcastic way, "now my Queen can take off her shoes and have no fear for a sliver to catch in her feet."

Éomer laughed good-naturedly, before he said, "And your son Théodric can crawl on it when he grows older and your wife need not worry he will hurt himself. Trust me, Éothain; you will thank your good work in time."

Then, Éomer turned to Elfhelm, the elder man finishing the wall that had caused them so much difficulty.

"How long do you deem this will take to finish, Elfhelm?" Éomer asked.

Elfhelm ran a hand down the smoothened wall and spoke. "I would say nine days."

"Nine days? But how can we keep Lothíriel from seeing it if we have to have nine days to finish it? She will not stay indoors for nine days, if I know her as well as I think," Éomer retorted. He furrowed his brow as he began to think of a way to keep her away. He turned to Éothain in a moment's time. "Perhaps we can tell Forleaswyn and she can have Lothíriel help her with Théodric…do you think that would work?"

"It might for a while, but after a day of visiting, what more can Lothíriel help her with? Would she not become bored?" Éothain asked. Éomer shrugged.

"I would not know. You do not get bored and she is a woman, so I would not think so."

Éothain could not help to laugh at his friend's ignorance in both the departments of women and babies. Shaking his head, Éothain said, "I am the father of Théodric, the husband to Forleaswyn. It is different because they are my family then to Lothíriel who are just friends."

"Éowyn seems to spend every moment of her time with your wife," Éomer pointed out. Éothain nodded.

"Aye, but she has known Forleaswyn far longer than Lothíriel. Perhaps it will work, and I will ask Forleaswyn, but I do not deem it would buy us more than two days' time."

"I think Éothain is right, Éomer," Elfhelm said gently. He knew his next statement would frustrate his young King further, so he tried to say it as compassionate as he could. "Maybe it would be best to tell your wife of the building. That way, we can know she actually wants it, and then we do not need to lie to keep her from seeing it ere it is finished."

Éomer shook his head. "No. I want it to be a surprise."

"Lying may bring more harm than good," Elfhelm countered wisely. Éomer was steadfast in his decision.

"I think – though I do not know her absolutely, that I know my wife better than you both. I know this surprise is everything she needs to feel more at home," said Éomer.

Knowing that he could do nothing to sway the King's mind, Elfhelm merely nodded and turned to begin to clean the area free of the supplies they had used to build it. Elfhelm knew of Éomer's stubbornness, as he had taught Éomer all he knew in the methods of combat and finished Éomund's beginnings of teaching his son horsemanship when Éomer was a child. That morning Éomer had insisted to help build the room, declining the urged offer of assistance from five more men, saying that it would only be truly special if those closest to Lothíriel in her new world built it.

"As you wish, Éomer," Elfhelm said as he shook his head and exchanged a smirk with Éothain. Their friend had not obviously changed much, when he changed positions from Third Marshall to King.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

It was the time for the evening meal, and Lothíriel sat at the head of the table with the chair beside her empty. Éomer was washing up quickly, after appearing from a day's time of absence sweaty and exhausted. When she asked him tenderly where he was, he said he had taken Firefoot out for a ride in the early morning with Éothain and had just returned. How could that be when he said the other day he had councils, and when she had been at the stable in the morning and afternoon Firefoot was not there?

Erchirion and Amrothos were talking amongst each other and she was listening half-heartedly. They were seated beside Imrahil who was on Lothíriel's right; Éowyn sat left of the King's chair. Erchirion was exchanging a glance now and then with a Rohirrim noblewoman, her hair a yellow blonde and her eyes a light blue. Her name was Helena, and she was very pretty. Lothíriel hoped that Erchirion was not on one of his escapades that he had thus far stopped since the War of the Ring.

"Is there something wrong, Lothíriel?" Imrahil asked his daughter after a moment's silence.

Lothíriel shook her head, "No father, I am fine."

"Just because you are married does not mean I cannot tell when you are lying," Imrahil pressed, his face vaguely concerned. Lothíriel stayed headfast, thinking that her ordeals with her new husband were between him and her only.

"I am just tired," Lothíriel said softly. She did not lie in truth, for she was weary from riding and falling. Lothíriel was wearing a dress that covered all of the new bruises, and she prayed they would be gone soon as it was unflattering and uncomfortable. "I spent most of the day reading the books that you brought from home to give to me. Thank you once again, father, for doing that."

Imrahil smiled warmly. "You are welcome. Dol Amroth will miss her Princess more than those books."

Feeling tears rise into her eyes Lothíriel turned her head and saw her husband enter the room, looking as fine as ever in plain clothes yet he made them look elaborate with his shining hair of gold. He sat in his chair, his arrival beginning the feast as tradition. The foods were all delicious, yet they turned bland in Lothíriel's mouth as she gave quick looks at Éomer's faintly distracted appearance. What could he possibly be thinking of?

During the meal, both Éomer and Lothíriel were silent, pondering over things that they were trying to keep from the other. Lothíriel was sullen, as she was beginning to think that Éomer was avoiding her – which he was, though for a good reason not bad like she thought. She was also beginning to think that he did not like her at all, let alone love her. Forever bound in a marriage, neither would be able to speak their mind, and neither would love the other. Oh, such things were a nightmare she held when she became betrothed, yet she had never thought it to come true! He had avoided her the whole day and she had shut herself up into the library, hoping he would enter and speak to her as he had before, trying to learn more about her. Even the nervous flashes she had when he spoke to her were better than staring at books alone in a huge and barren library.

Éomer pondered upon why Lothíriel was dressed head to toe in a thick velvet when it was still summer outside. Was it because she was ashamed of him looking upon her skin? Did she think it sinful of her, even though they were married? Worse yet, did she hate him and no longer wished to pretend that their future could be bright? Oh, if only the next nine days would speed by quickly, and allow him the pleasure of seeing her face light up in joy at the wonderful building he had built with his two best friends for her. The act would bring her such joy; he knew that if he told her now, the joy would not be as prominent as if he waited until the room was complete.

Éomer was not shocked when they hardly said three words to each other the whole meal. Though the meal was good, he could not help but hate it for the utter awkwardness in the air. When the meal ended, he bid his people a good night and escorted Lothíriel to their room in silence.

Once they were inside their room and Éomer was changing into his bedclothes, he noticed that Lothíriel was seated on the chair in front of her vanity stiffly, brushing her hair with her left hand softly. Long after it had been silky and tangle free, she continued to brush it, eyeing him as if she wished he would hurry with his nightly routine to go to sleep. When he settled into his bed, he expected her to change into one of her nightgowns, preferably the green because it did wonders to her skin color and he thought she looked beautiful in it. However, she blew out the candle and changed into her nightgown in the dark.

After a moment, Lothíriel settled into the covers beside Éomer. Lothíriel broke the silence for the first time that night, clearing her throat ere she spoke. "Forleaswyn wanted me to help her with Théodric tomorrow. I said yes as long as there were no councils that I needed to attend."

It seemed to Éomer she liked councils more than she liked him! It was all she talked of, attending council meetings with him. Perhaps he could learn something from her if she was as diplomatic as it seemed to him. Nevertheless, Éomer silently thanked Éothain for asking Forleaswyn to invite Lothíriel to help her with the new baby. At least one thing that night was faring well!

"There are no council meetings tomorrow. You are free to go."

"Thank you," Lothíriel said swiftly. She had wished he would have invited her to go somewhere with him. Perhaps there was another way to get that thought clear to him. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

Éomer stiffened at his side of the bed. "I am…helping Éothain…build a…crib for the new babe."

"May I see it when you are done?"

Éomer stifled a groan. Now he would have to build or buy a crib to cover up his lie! Perhaps Elfhelm was right when he said it would be easier just to tell her sooner than he wished. However, Éomer wanted to wait even if it meant for him to suffer, for the look on his beautiful wife's face when she saw her drawing room would be worth it all. All the pain and sweat from working so diligently would pay off when he was finished and Lothíriel saw that he truly did care for her. Their bright future counted on the surprise.

"Of course you may." Éomer could not help the yawn that emitted from his mouth loudly. Lothíriel could feel the exhaustion radiating off Éomer, so she turned on her side.

"Good night, Éomer."

"Good night, Lothíriel."


	7. Chapter 7

_This chapter was hard to write, though I do not know why. I hope you all enjoy it, and might I tell you a _lot_ happens in it! So take a deep breath – you will need it!_

_**madrone**: I'm so glad you are looking forward to the surprises, perhaps you might not need to wait for 9 days! Yes, Lothíriel desperately needs Éowyn; it will be interesting to see her with Éomer alone, huh?_

_**Blue Eyes at Night**: Lol, it seems to me as well Aefentid, Rastus, and Firefoot have much more sense than their owners! Perhaps they will lend Éomer and Lothíriel some, you never know! Thanks for the review it was very amusing. :)_

_**lindaholyland**: Yes, I do know a _lot_ about horses! I have been around them since I was four due to my mother, and I have two. That is probably why I love Éomer so much, though he is handsome too, is he not?_

_**wondereye**: Yes, Lothíriel is a terrible rider, but one never knows what miracles may happen next! Thanks for the review, I'm so happy you like it._

_**thayzel: **Their lying just may prove to be more difficult than telling the truth, no? Thanks for the review; I hope you enjoy this chapter as well._

_**Rebby Éowyn**: Wouldn't a happy ending be nice? Perhaps I can become a magician and pull one out of thin air…one never knows:)_

_**quizzabelle**: Yes…I am a rider! I have _many_ amusing tales of myself learning to ride when I was five. I was completely terrified of horses, which calls for my decision that maybe Lothíriel, of the sea with more boats than horses, would be afraid. Thank you for the review!_

_**Taima1**: Fluff! I do not know if that is on this chapter's agenda …I guess you will just have to wait to see:)_

_**Idon'tletschoolinthewayofmyedu: **I tried to hurry, but it failed once again, lol. Sorry, maybe next time it will work out better! And I agree with you, there are not enough Éomer stories!_

_**Seyadda**: Thank you for your review, here's more!_

_**kezya**: Yeah, I kinda rushed Lothíriel's loss of fear of horses. The main reason I saw was with Éowyn and all…helping her out you know? I'm glad you like "my" Lothíriel. I tried to go more into depth of why Lothíriel seemed not to fear the horses the other day, but I doubt it was as good as it should have been. Oh, and no problem for the long review, I _loved_ your story and it deserved it:)_

_**steelelf**: Glad you like it, here's more!_

_**Nan75**: It does make you disheartened with all the drama! It even makes _me_ exasperated, and I'm writing it! Loved your pun, it gave me a good laugh. Here's more, sorry it took me so long:)_

_**leslienicolespeaks**: No, it doesn't seem like you would like LOTR, but you're welcome here anytime you want! I'm glad you like my story thus far, hopefully this chapter will bring you more 'gladness'. Thanks!_

_And without further ado, here's the next chapter!_

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Lothíriel awoke the subsequent morning with aching limbs. It took her a moment to keep the moan playing in her throat from escaping, and when she bit down on her lip and eased open her eyes, she found Éomer looking at her pointedly. For a moment, she had no idea what he could be staring at so questionably, but then she realized. When she had been sleeping, her night dress had slipped from her shoulder, revealing the huge dark purple bruise she had earned from her first fall off Aefentid. Lothíriel felt her cheeks burn a deep shade of red, and she quickly pulled at her night dress to cover the bruise.

"Where did you receive that?" Éomer asked immediately. It took only a moment for Lothíriel to think of a suitable answer, whilst hiding the lie she so wished to keep from her husband.

"I tripped and fell."

The look Éomer gave her made Lothíriel second guess that her lie might not have been 'suitable,' for the bruise would be hard to acquire by merely tripping when she was walking. Though she truly did not want to say so many lies that she might slip truth unconsciously, Lothíriel deemed perhaps it would have been better to fib more. Éomer reached and pulled the gauzy fabric away from her shoulder once more, gawking at the swollen bruise with narrowed eyebrows. He compared the size of the bruise to his fist, and when he found they were roughly the same size, his eyes furrowed further.

"Did someone hurt you, Lothíriel?" asked he. Eyes widening in shock, Lothíriel shook her head hastily.

"No, of course no one hurt me! I am very clumsy, milord, and I fell from the stairs off the western side of Meduseld. They are very steep, you know, and I tripped on my skirts," Lothíriel smiled beneath the blush. Her skirts were very heavy and full the other day. Éomer would have believed her if he had not been building her the drawing room off the western side of Meduseld.

"I know you are lying, Lothíriel. I was at the western side of Meduseld and saw you not once."

"You could not have been at the western side the whole day," Lothíriel said exasperatedly, "You were at councils, and Éothain told me you took Firefoot for a ride afterward. This is true, is it not?"

_No,_ Éomer stifled in his throat, _I was there the whole time. Why is she lying to me?_ He could not understand how Lothíriel could lie to him! If someone had laid a hand upon her, he would be sure to have them punished, no matter who it was. He only wished she would be honest with him. Éomer only desired to help her, and the bruise was dark against her golden skin, swollen and painful looking. Éomer did not realize at the time that he was lying just as much as she was.

"You are right," Éomer finally gave in, "I could not have been there the whole day and I believe you. But if anyone tries to do anything to you, I want to know."

"You will be the first to know," Lothíriel assured. "I would not hide it from you if someone was physically hurting me. I am not daft."

So now, he thought her a fool!

"I know you are not," Éomer said, clamping his jaw shut on his tongue. Why did she have to be so difficult?

Pushing back the covers and revealing a few more bruises on her legs before she could fix her night dress, Lothíriel stood. "I am going to take a walk, milord. It is nearly morning and I do not think I could return to sleep even if I tried."

Quickly, she changed behind the Amakan screen into a brilliant blue gown and left the room before Éomer could protest. Cursing himself and his tongue in a flurry of Rohirric words that the whole of Rohan would be surprised their King would say, he stood and dressed. There was not a chance he could sleep after all of the lies that he had flung to her, and the lies she had flung to him. Their relationship was growing worse by the day, for how could they learn more of each other if they lied and could not get along? Feeling more of a fool than ever, Éomer left the room in search for ale to ease his aching head.

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Lothíriel visited Forleaswyn after she broke her nightly fast and found the new parents' room easily in the halls of Meduseld. Lothíriel was beginning to grow accustomed to the turns and where each door was located, and she was glad for she had grown irritable feeling lost each day. Éothain was pulling on his boots when Lothíriel knocked on their door, and Forleaswyn beckoned her inside softly. Lothíriel smiled when she saw the picturesque sight in front of her; Forleaswyn sat in a rocking chair with Théodric in her lap, the darling baby boy fast asleep in her arms. It seemed Forleaswyn and Éothain were the perfect family. Lothíriel only wished that one day she would be half as happy with Éomer.

"Good morning, Lothíriel," Forleaswyn crooned.

"Good morning, Forleaswyn, Éothain," Lothíriel said in turn. Éothain smiled as he stood. "How is Théodric?"

"Asleep, and I praise Béma for it. He cried all night and I felt like crying in vexation with him," Éothain said. Lothíriel cringed as she saw the dark circles under the eyes of mother and father alike. Perhaps her night was not as bad as she had thought before, for she felt refreshed from the sleep no matter how her head ached from the argument with her husband.

"It seems Théodric enjoys taunting us with the fact he can sleep whenever he pleases. I could fall asleep currently, but have things to do so I must suffer. 'Tis the curse of being a mother I suppose," Forleaswyn said, gazing down upon the bundle in her arms. Éothain yawned and stretched before he spoke.

"Have you seen your husband, Lady Lothíriel?" asked he. "I wish not to search the entire grounds if he is still asleep for I daresay my legs would buckle underneath my weight in ten minutes' time."

Lothíriel could not help to laugh at his words though the expression on his face was of complete seriousness. "No, I do not know where Lord Éomer is." Her voice was so cold when she spoke his name, both in the room understood immediately the couple had fought.

"I suppose he would be in the stables, then," Éothain said hastily, exchanging a glance with his wife that told her to find what the fight was so they could help make amendments. She nodded before he continued. "I will leave you two to yourselves, then. If you need me, Forleaswyn, you know where I will be."

Forleaswyn nodded as Éothain kissed her gently on the lips before he left the room. When the door shut, Lothíriel fell to a seat on a chair and leaned her head onto her hand in a brooding thought. Forleaswyn said nothing, for she knew once the young woman was ready to speak of her thoughts she would. For a few moments, Lothíriel sat in silence, and when she finally spoke, her words were tinted with gloom.

"Éomer and I fought this morning," Lothíriel said, proving to Forleaswyn her and Éothain's silent prediction was true. Offering a sympathetic look, Forleaswyn spoke.

"Of what did you fight of?"

"Of this," Lothíriel said as she pulled at her dress, sliding it tenderly over her shoulder and revealing a nasty bruise. Forleaswyn's eyebrows rose. "He wanted to know where I got it and I could not answer him in truth so I lied. He did not believe my lies."

"Of course he did not. Rohirrim men can pick a lie out of truths as if a person's face turns green when they say the lie. Éothain can detect a lie before the words exit my lips and I have long before learned to never lie to him. The truth is always the best way to go, and the consequences that follow never leave in hurt feelings or mislead thoughts." Forleaswyn paused for a moment. "How did you truly get it?"

"By a false hope, a dream that shall never come true," Lothíriel spoke dramatically, resting her chin in her hand as she sat. Forleaswyn furrowed her brow in concentration.

"And would this 'false hope' involve Éomer?"

"By the name 'Éomer' you mean my husband, do you not?"

Knowing Lothíriel was merely trying to avoid the question, Forleaswyn gave her a pointed look, and Lothíriel merely sighed. Making her eyes fall downcast, Lothíriel felt tears prick the dry surfaces. Never had she felt more alone!

"Yes," Lothíriel admitted in a moment's time. Without any urging for further explanations from Forleaswyn, Lothíriel continued. "I had a notion that if I could get past my fear of horses, Éomer would find a place for me in his heart. I fell many times, though I tried not to be frightened, and I earned bruises in various places. I had thought I would hide them. I am no longer sure why I had thought I could do this, for riding horses seems even scarier than looking at them and imagining what could happen. This morning, Éomer saw my bruises, and he concluded that some person had hurt me, begging me to tell him who it was. Though I cannot, for it was merely a fall from his horse, a horse I had not the permission to ride, for the reason I promised myself I would not tell him."

Forleaswyn was pensive as she rocked Théodric in her tender arms.

"Do you wish to continue with your lessons?" asked Forleaswyn gently. Tears continued to build in Lothíriel's eyes before she could continue.

"Yesterday, yes, I wanted to continue. It seemed I was undaunted by the terror horses send me, but today I feel desperately inept. I know there is no chance that in a weeks' time – or even a year for that matter – could I hold the grace, skill, and courage to ride a horse as Éowyn does, or even half of what she does, that could make Éomer proud of me. To make him love me," Lothíriel said softly, her lips trembling with each word. Forleaswyn spoke.

"You wish to stop your lessons and continue holding a phobia of horses?" Oh, how cruel was it to Forleaswyn to know both sides of the new couple's trials to please the other! If only she could tell Lothíriel, that Éomer was attempting to bring her joy too! However, Forleaswyn was quiet if only because she promised her husband she would never say a word, and never one to shake aside a promise, a true tradition of the Rohirrim; Forleaswyn kept her mouth quiet but tried in other ways to help.

"No…I do not. However, what if I continue to fall and hurt myself worse? Éomer would be so displeased to see that I was lying to him," Lothíriel cried. "What if he goes to Elfhelm or Gamling and tells them I was assaulted, hurt by the hand of one of my own people? The whole city of Edoras would know and I would be shunned for lying to the King and being incapable of staying atop a trained mare!"

The young woman was growing hysterical. "Hush, Lothíriel," Forleaswyn snapped and the child in her arms began to awaken. After singing softly to her son as he fell back to sleep, Forleaswyn spoke once more. "If you believe that all could happen, just because of these lies you have spoken, you must tell Éomer the truth. If he is pleased that you attempted to learn the art of riding, perhaps he could continue your lessons, but marriage needs truths. To have a happy marriage, you cannot lie to your husband."

"He will hate me if he knows of my lies!" Lothíriel continued to grow somber, though Forleaswyn thought it ironic that both were confiding their fears of rejection in their friends, yet the one person who needed to know knew nothing except their own fears.

"Éomer tells lies himself," Forleaswyn said, nearly snorting at the honesty she spoke of. Lothíriel's voice was dismal and bitter with anguish.

"Rohirrim are known for their bravery and honesty. I have neither. Perhaps Éomer will ask to have me assassinated to take a better wife."

Laughing harshly, Forleaswyn nearly awoke her sleeping son once more, but it seemed the boy could sleep far better in daylight and he did not stir. "Éomer would not assassinate you," she said, "He thinks you are beautiful."

"On the outside yes, I am sure he thinks so for he has told me, but not the inside. He does not know me for me, so he will only know the lies," Lothíriel returned, fiddling with the hem of her dress diligently. Forleaswyn sighed in exasperation at the King and Queen's situation.

"He does not know your emotions and personality because you do not let him. Tell him the truths, and tell him you want him to teach you to ride. When he teaches you, you will bond and learn about each other and the lies will fade and be forgotten. Well, forgotten until you have children and tell them of the situations you got yourselves in when you were first wedded," Forleaswyn chided. For the first time that morning, Lothíriel looked hopeful.

"Perhaps you are right."

"Of course I am right. Did you ever doubt me?"

Deciding to forget the last remark, Lothíriel continued. "I will go tell him now. There is nowhere to go now but up, is there?"

If only she knew what was in store for her!

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Éomer bent to run his hands over the front right foot of Aefentid. Cursing at the swollen lamellae, the bottom of Aefentid's hoof, Éomer could not understand how the mare had gotten the sore hoof. Éothain joined Éomer and looked at the hoof after the vet who Éomer had called to check upon his new mare left to make a compress for the mare's foot. Éothain agreed that he could not understand how Aefentid received the lameness, for they had not ridden her and no one had asked to ride her either. For all they knew, she had been in her stall for the past few days, and it seemed impossible for her to become lame from the soft bedding she slept upon.

"The only thing I can think that she got this would be laminitis. It isn't as much something that stress on the foot gives, but genetics can give the horse the disease," Éothain murmured, the seriousness of the horrible fact painfully aware to both. Aefentid was truly miserable though she loved the attention she was receiving from Éomer and Éothain.

"Laminitis usually affects more than one hoof, though," Éomer countered, praying to Béma this was not the case. Laminitis was extremely serious, and the worst cases of it lead to the inability to ride the horse ever again. "Haleth agreed with me, and suggests we apply a compress to her hoof and check her other hoofs each day just in case."

"I agree as well, but I do not see how Aefentid could get a stone bruise if she has not been taken out on a harsh ride for a week at least, and you always clean her feet well. I asked the stable hands and they say that none of them have taken Aefentid out either, so I see no way that perpetual stress on a hoof with a stone in it could be possible," Éothain remarked. Éomer nodded, as he believed that no one had ridden his horse but him and Éothain.

Haleth, the horse doctor, wandered into the stall, holding in his hands a compress made of bandages soaked in herbs that would suffocate the pain for Aefentid. He was an elder man who had helped raise Firefoot, which kept him in a high place in Éomer's mind. They placed some bandages inside Aefentid's hoof and then swathed flannel wrap around her lower foot. When they were finished, Haleth left after a few words of directions, and Lothíriel entered, her eyes wide when she saw Aefentid's right hoof covered in bandages.

"Good morning, Lady Lothíriel," Éothain said for Éomer, who was unsure that he should break the silent truce between them. To explain the dilemma that Aefentid was in, Éothain said, "Éomer's poor horse here seems to have a hoof problem. Hopefully it is merely a bruise."

Petrified that she could have been the reason for the hurt hoof, Lothíriel said in a shaky voice, forgetting her pledge to Forleaswyn to tell Éomer of all the happenings of the other day, "What else could it be?"

"Laminitis," Éomer spoke for the first time since their argument. Lothíriel's eyes strayed to his, flickering to the ground with pallid cheeks growing paler. "This would prove the inability for anyone to ride her and even worse, we may need to put her down if it leads to structural compromise."

Tears immediately graced Lothíriel's eyes and she reached out to grab a hold of the stall wall. Steadying her breathing and voice, Lothíriel asked the last question that could prove it was indeed her fault entirely. "How could she have gotten this?"

Éothain answered this, his exhausted manner only increasing the horrors that entered Lothíriel's mind of this horse's horrible life inside a stall with a hurt hoof because of her. "Stress on a tender part of her hoof, genetics, small hooves in comparison to her body weight…a number of reasons that could apply to this."

Because Lothíriel did not know much of horses, she did not realize that the problem could merely be a stone bruise, brought on by a stone wedged into the frog of her hoof. This problem merely needed a few days to heel, and while Lothíriel was riding, this could have happened. However, she was so fearful that she had ruined Éomer's horse by her escapade and trials to learn the art of an equestrian, her breath caught in her throat and she could not speak. Oh, Éomer could _never_ know the truths that she had caused Aefentid this laminitis! He would never forgive her.

"This problem could have been caused by riding," Éothain continued, speaking of a stone bruise, not the laminitis, "Have you seen anyone riding Aefentid?"

Her face brightened to a brilliant red. Lothíriel fidgeted underneath both of the men's gazes. "No…"

"I had not thought you would," Éomer said, not meaning for his voice to sound to bitter. "What did you want when you came here?"

"I wanted to…" Lothíriel swallowed hard, trying to think of yet another lie, "Ask you if you knew where my father was."

"I am not sure," Éomer said, turning to Aefentid once more after becoming irritable that his wife looked even more intimidated by him. What was he doing wrong? He had tried everything! Now that Aefentid was hurt, he would not be able to work on the drawing room for her as often as he had planned. Nothing seemed to be going right.

"Well," Lothíriel pitiful voice squeaked, "I will look for him. I pray Aefentid gets better. Good day, my lords."

Before either of the men could say a word to her, Lothíriel turned on her heel and hurried from the stables.

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Before dinner, Éomer went to change because the clothes he was wearing were sweaty. After he had made sure that Aefentid was as well as she could be, he and Éothain gathered Elfhelm and continued the building of the drawing room. They had not gotten far until it was time to freshen up for dinner, and so they planned to begin construction earlier the next morning to make up for the lost time. When Éomer entered his room, he found a desolate Lothíriel weeping into her pillow on their bed. The scene was like a terrible dream, the bed looking large and massive, the canopy draping about her regally, and Lothíriel crumbling into the velvet blankets.

Éomer paced to the bed, and his wife looked up and saw him peering down upon her. She took a deep breath, wiped aside her tears, and tried to keep her face from crumpling in grief. Her face was pale, except the tip of her nose, which was a brilliant red, and her eyes, which were swollen. Lothíriel sat up from her position on the bed and looked at the floor like a guilty child and Éomer's frustration peaked. He could no longer keep inside him the many questions he had for her to answer, nor could he keep his voice lowered.

"What is wrong, Lothíriel?" he spoke, "What is it that I have done so horribly to make you so fearful of me? Why are you avoiding me, and what gave you those bruises? I _must_ know Lothíriel, _please tell me_."

"You have done nothing wrong, milord," Lothíriel's meek voice cracked and she cringed at the exasperated look he was giving her.

"My name is Éomer, Lothíriel. Please, address me by nothing but my name." Éomer could sense there was an unspeakable problem, and he knew the only way she would tell him was if he insisted upon it. Knowing she would be far more distressful before she told him, Éomer tried to control his frustration. "If I have done nothing, what is the matter?"

His voice was pleading and his eyes groped hers as he kneeled beside her. Lothíriel trembled under his gaze, shaking her head in desperation. "I – I – cannot tell you!" she began to grovel, the tears returning as she imagined his reaction. If he were this mad now, how mad would he be when he learned the truth?

"Yes, Lothíriel, you can tell me. You may want to, but you must tell me," Éomer's loud voice rumbled, making Lothíriel squirm beneath his gaze even more. It came to a point where Éomer no longer cared. He wanted the truths, and he wanted them now.

"You would never forgive me if you knew the truth," Lothíriel wept harsher and harsher, her vision blurring and her head spinning as if she drank too much ale. Éomer's hands found hers, and he squeezed them in reassurance.

"Of all the stupid things Éowyn did to me when we were children, I forgave her each time. I doubt I could ever hold a grudge to you, Lothíriel." His voice, which was a moment before trembling in frustration, was now soft. "You are my wife, and I wish for nothing more than our marriage to be blissful."

"You will hate me," Lothíriel cried. Éomer placed his hand upon her cheek and her tear-filled eyes held his gaze for the first time.

"I could never hate you, Lothíriel."

Lothíriel realized that his eyes held nothing but sincere honesty and she bit her lip harshly. She knew what she had to do. It would not have been so hard if he did not already enchant her. She only wished for his love and acceptation. Steadying her racing heart, Lothíriel took a deep breath to begin the explanation.

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	8. Chapter 8

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_First off, I would like to thank all of my faithful and new reviewers, you guys' words have made me happy, and though I am so slow and promised to update sooner, I hope you aren't disappointed that I (once again) was slow to post this. However, here it is, and the next chapter will be the last. Yes, I know, it is extremely fast, but I told you it would not be a terrible long story. I hope you enjoy it, and please drop a review off at the end._

_**Nan75**: I couldn't resist _not_ stopping there! It just happened to fall into place, aren't you lucky? Well, you are now because you are getting the answers to the cliffie. Thanks for the review! I hope you like this one as well._

_**SmaryK**: Well, here is the next chapter I hope you enjoy it._

_**leslienicolespeaks**: You don't know for _sure_ that she is going to tell him the truth, now, do you? Perhaps she is just going to avoid it and they will never be happy…well, I guess you'll just have to find out now! Thanks and here's more._

_**Lady Arian**: I'm glad you got it all straightened out (the chapters I mean). Yes, Lothí was distressed, but rest assured, Éomer was too! Lol, here's the next, I hope you enjoy._

_**Kia**: Sorry you lack patience, you know it _is _a virtue, (lol!) Here is the next to quench your impatience, I'm glad you like this so far, hope you like more!_

_**wondereye**: Finally someone who enjoyed the cliffhanger! You'll just have to see to find if Éomer gets trapped in his own lies! I'm glad you liked it, hope you like the update._

_**Jazzcat**: Thank you so much! Your words of praise are so kind, I hope I deserve them as much as you imply I do! I'm so happy you like this story, here is more, and you will finally get some answers._

_**ArcherGal2932:** As you can see the "update today or tomorrow" did not work. Sorry, I'm just a tad slow. I'm thrilled that you are enjoying this, and I'm glad your first Éomer/Lothíriel story was mine. Hopefully you like it enough to try some new ones! Here is more, hope you enjoy!_

_**Shadows of Moonlight: **Lol! Thanks, and glad you like it, here is more._

_**LothirielofGondor:** Yep, the first words are the hardest (I hope at least!) Thank you for your praise, and I hope you like this chapter as well as the last._

_**Taima1: **Huh, how "could I stop there?" Kinda like how I stopped at _this _chapter's end. I'm kidding…or am I? Guess you'll just have to read and see! Glad you like it, thanks for the review._

_**fleur137: **You think it will be fine? Well, for your sake I do too, lol. Here's more, hope you enjoy._

_**Athaira:** Evil cliffhangers are my specialty. :-) Hope you like this chapter as well._

_**Ilmatar: **Lol, "lack of communication" perhaps that should have been the summary. 'What happens when two people are married and do not talk? Cut to: Éomer and Lothíriel!' That would be amusing. I'm glad you think this story is refreshing, I hate stuff that is so old and boring. Hope you enjoy this chapter as well!_

_**Jen Lewis**: I tried to make it as realistic as possible, I know I wouldn't be completely open if I just got married to a man who I never knew before. Here's the next, hope you enjoy._

_**steelelf: **Here is the next chapter, sorry the hurrying didn't work out (surprise, surprise). I hope you enjoy it!_

_**Blue Eyes at Night**: Oh my gosh, I laughed so hard when I read your review. You are hilarious, thank you for the humor. I totally agree with you about Théodric! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well, and feel free to 'humor' me again!_

_**Z.: **Yes, it is a fix, isn't it? I hope you enjoy the rest, and thank you for your kind words._

_**quizzabella: **Yes, they are oblivious to the truth, but we'll still love 'em, huh? Glad you like it, hope you enjoy the rest._

_**madrone: **Yes, Éomer is awful great, huh? Well, we'll just have to see about that 'tender moment on the horizon.' Hope you like this chapter, there's one more to come! Thank you for your praise, too._

_**lindaholyland: **I'm glad I sound like I know what I'm talking about of horses. I've had them since I was 5, so I had better! I'm happy that you like my story, and thank you for your praise._

_Without further ado, here is the next chapter, though I bet many have skipped my A/N for the story. Am I right?_

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"I am the one who hurt Aefentid."

Éomer looked at his wife, whose eyes were a brilliant red, her hands shaking as she tried to dry the tears. Her words only seemed to affect him a few moments after she spoke them. How could it be possible that his timid wife hurt Aefentid? Moreover, why would she hurt one of his favorites of the mares? Shaking his head free of any disbelief, he managed to speak.

"And how did you hurt her?" Éomer tried to keep all emotion from his voice, making it sound callous and uncaring. He had always shown sentiment, but he knew that currently, anger at his wife's unexplained actions would do much more harm than good.

Tears began to pool inside Lothíriel's amber eyes, and she hid her face in her hands for a moment, trying desperately to calm herself. When she had regained slight composure, she revealed her face, looking at Éomer shyly. Her voice cracked when she talked. "I had thought you would like me if I learned to ride."

At this, Éomer began to speak but Lothíriel cut into his words once more.

"Please, let me finish." Éomer's silence was willing, and Lothíriel took a steadying breath before she finished her story. She told him of her trial with Éowyn's help, from morning to mid afternoon, to try to learn to ride. She had fallen, thus she had received nasty bruises, and she must have somehow hurt Aefentid. At the time, Lothíriel spoke honestly, she had not noticed the mare having any discomfort, but she was a beginner so perhaps she did not see something. Her voice had steadied during her speech, and though she did not seem confident in any way, her voice held perseverance for only truth, making Éomer immediately proud of her.

"I apologize, my lord, for I truly do not know what happened when I rode Aefentid. I am horrible with horses, but I thought that perhaps I could change my ways, but I did not. I ruined your horse, my favorite of all of the horses in the stables, and I know apologies cannot change the aftermath, but I truly have never been any sorrier. Is there anything I can do to right my wrongs?" tears were beginning to drop from her eyes when she finished speaking, and Éomer felt her sorrow.

"Dry your eyes," he said, reaching forward to wipe aside her tears. Lothíriel flinched at his touch, and Éomer's eyes instantly went downcast. "There is nothing to fear," said Éomer, in reference to both the circumstances involving Aefentid and himself.

"But, Éomer," Lothíriel protested, her eyes widening to shock, "Aefentid has laminitis, and I caused it!"

He raised a hand, and said soothingly, "Now is your turn to listen to me."

Lothíriel fell quiet; her eyes straying to the floor, and Éomer spoke on.

"One of the many reasons why one should not ride a horse without permission is because the owner knows everything about their horse. For example, did you know Aefentid had soft hooves that bruised easily?" Lothíriel's wetted eyes seemed troubled as she shook her head. "No, of course you do not. She is not your responsibility, and you do not know everything about her, nor does Éowyn for this is the first time she has seen Aefentid. I know many things about Aefentid for she is my mare, after all. I have found that if you do not thoroughly clean out her hooves after you ride her, Aefentid becomes sore, and lame. Since I did not think any person had ridden her, I immediately jumped to the next conclusion which was a disease that could be brought on by small feet, laminitis."

Lothíriel did not appear convinced. "But Éowyn and I cleaned her feet when we finished riding. I do not know how much more 'thorough' we can clean, but we tried. How can she still get a sore if we did this?"

For a moment, Éomer was pensive, but he began to speak in a moment, "No one does any job perfectly. I have made errors too, like cinching the girth on Firefoot's saddle too loose, and having it tip me off at a full hand gallop. I do not think Éothain has laughed harder, nor has my backside ached so much as a consequence."

Lothíriel seemed slightly less dispirited, but still not completely won over.

"Be you a novice, expert, or an amateur, Lothíriel, you can still make mistakes. Why, Éowyn was with you, but she has been riding for her whole life and she did not catch your error. You might have removed the rock, but it had already bruised Aefentid's feet when you were riding. Another reason why I was thinking of giving her to another was her delicacy. She could never be a long distance runner, but she could be a pleasure horse."

Éomer looked at Lothíriel pointedly, but she did not seem to understand.

"So Aefentid does not have laminitis?" Lothíriel asked after a moment.

"One can never be positive, but I would say no. Éothain, the grooms, and I will pay special attention to her for the upcoming week. If no other leg bothers her, and the bruise goes away in time, then no, she does not have the disease. A stone bruise is exactly like a bruise we would get if we hurt ourselves. It goes away in time, leaving nothing but a memory, if that." Éomer offered a genuine smile, and Lothíriel brushed off her tears, looking extraordinarily relieved.

"Oh, thank goodness," she spoke, sighing. For a few moments, Lothíriel sat, thinking upon all of the horrible thoughts that had appeared in her mind before she had spoken the truth. How she had feared Éomer would hate her. She spoke her belief, and Éomer became surprised.

"I would never hate you, not for anything, Lothíriel. You did not know this?" he asked. She became silent, and he realized she had truly believed he did not like her. "You are very beautiful both on the inside and out and this has proved it further. Rohirrim judge one another based upon how they treat their mounts during war. Although we are not in war, you truly upheld my sentiment that people good in their heart, care unquestionably about any horse, be it theirs, or their husbands.

"If you still wish to learn to ride Aefentid," Éomer continued, "I will teach you myself. I am sure Éowyn would not mind lending me her student." Lothíriel's eyes widened and a silly smile spread across her face.

"I would enjoy that very much, thank you."

Truly touched, Lothíriel felt a knot of anxiety slip from her shoulders. At times, Lothíriel deemed Éomer was the most proud and daunting man in the world. However, the man in front of her currently was the exact opposite. He was soothing, genuine, and amenable. This side had already made Lothíriel feel a deep passion of feeling towards her new husband. However, it departed at her thoughts of earlier that day when she had thought him avoiding her. Why did it seem that he would not take her to any diplomatic meetings, and why did he skip the meals except the final? Was it in desperation to separate him from her?

Éomer stood, offering his arm to her.

"Now let us go to dine."

His wife shook her head. Éomer was shocked at her obstinacy. What else was there to be angry with?

"I want to know one more thing," she said, her voice cracking in anxiety that her fears would play out. Éomer nodded, mutely urging her to speak of her feelings. Taking a deep breath and trying not to display any of her feelings, Lothíriel said, "Why have you been avoiding me for the past week?"

The question had brought surprise to Éomer, though he should have known that his quiet and observational wife would have realized that he tried to push her away from him. He was clearly unable to lie once more to her, when she had spilled so many truths to him even when she was apprehensive and afraid that he would be hateful. He despised the thought in showing her the surprise before it was finished, but he knew he had to. She would never forgive him if after she had made herself submissive to his wrath, he would say lies as appreciation in return. Therefore, sucking in his pride, Éomer revealed a plan he would have given his all to protect.

"Before we feast, I want to show you something…I have not been completely honest with you either, and I wish you to know the truth to why you have thought I was avoiding you these past few days, and why I knew you did not trip down the western stairs of Meduseld."

Curious, Lothíriel nodded, and together they walked to the small room that had caused such problems in such a small amount of time.

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"Oh!"

Éomer could not help but grin at the complete astonishment that beheld his little wife's face. When she saw the just started construction of his, her eyes had widened, and a smile had spread across her face in pure happiness. Her appearance had been exactly what Éomer had imagined, even though the journey to the bliss did not seem to match his first idea. Still, Éomer wished the building had been finished, for her ecstasy would have been greater. However, desperate moments called for desperate actions, he supposed.

"Do you like it, Lothíriel?" asked he, smiling down upon the astonished face of his wife.

"I could not have imagined a better place to draw in. Why look, Éomer, seated here," Lothíriel acted as if she was in a chair facing the beautiful plains of Rohan and the brilliant pink sunset, "I can paint the sunset and the plains. Then here," she turned to face the town, "I can sketch the Rohirric people, and their everyday lives. This spot is majestic, Éomer. I truly love it. Thank you for this!"

"I had hoped you would," Éomer said.

"You ever had doubt? Is that why you made it a secret?" asked she.

"I had wanted to surprise you…I thought you would be pleased."

"Am I not now?" Smiling despite himself, Éomer shrugged, the beam broadening on his handsome face.

Looking at his handiwork, Éomer continued. "Éothain, Elfhelm, and I have been working on this for the past few days. I wanted them to construct this with me, because I thought it would be more…valued if the builders were those that were closest to you in your new home. Your father told me you had a room to draw in at Dol Amroth, and I knew you must have one here. It has been harder to keep you from here than I had expected, and I am only glad you did not fall upon this and realize without me present to see your reaction."

Lothíriel smiled, imagining the result, and feeling her heart squeeze in glee. If Éomer had spent so much time building this for her, it must mean that he felt she was worthy to be his wife and perhaps they could grow to love one another. A surge of energy pulsed through her veins, and Lothíriel had not been happier in months. She spoke her thoughts to her husband diligently, promising herself never to lie to him again.

"You are such a wonderful person; forgive me for not acknowledging this sooner."

With that, she flung her arms about him, in a tight embrace, startling her husband more than she would have imagined. After his first instinct to stiffen from disbelief, Éomer reached his arms about his wife, trying not to show how awkward he felt, and loving her displays of affection more than he would admit to anyone – but her.

When Lothíriel and Éomer parted, Lothíriel's face glowed from the soft illumination of the sun, and she had never looked more striking to Éomer. In a trance, he reached his hand and touched her cheek, smiling at the tears of joy that had filled her eyes. Éomer silently praised any force that had guided them together at that moment.

"Can we walk?" she asked in breathlessness. "I do not want to go inside yet. I feel so content here…"

Éomer completely agreed with her, for both were fearful the happenings were just some sort of mirage, or a dream, and they did not want it to fade. "Of course," he said, offering her an arm, which she took willingly. "Let us go to the gardens, they are especially beautiful in the evening."

They began to walk, and found that words hardly sufficed the exquisiteness of the gardens. The couple felt as if they were walking in heaven. It was like a dream, Lothíriel deemed, and she had given herself to a man she had never known before, to make it come true. Yes, she had shed tears many times in panic of unhappiness, but all of the pain seemed to release as she wandered through the heaven-like illusion.

"Let us never keep something from the other," Éomer said in due time. "For though this escapade ended fairly, I have doubt that any further time spent lying to one another would have only brought hurt feelings." Lothíriel nodded, her eyes glimmering in mirth.

"I cannot believe I had thought you hated me," she whispered with tender lips. "When you were gone so early and late from our chambers, I had anticipated you to tell me of indifference at our marriage, and a life filled with disappointment and frustration for us both."

"Had you?" Éomer looked astounded. Éowyn had always told him he did not show his emotions adequately, that many could not distinguish whether he liked or loathed them. Perhaps it was time that Éomer showed Lothíriel exactly how he felt.

"Yes," Lothíriel said after a moment of contemplation. "I had thought that the only reason why you wedded me was to…well," the thought sounded so silly now, Lothíriel was nearly embarrassed to say it, "to have a warm bed at night and an heir in spring."

The gardens echoed the king's burly laugh, and Lothíriel flushed elegantly at his amusement to such a serious and ghastly thought. She was not angry at his find of humor in her truths; for she was glad, he was not offended! Éomer shook his head and stopped his laughter before he spoke. "Even I must admit both of those findings are plusses to having a wife, but no, that is not the main reason why I wished for a wife."

Lothíriel's eyes glittered coyly as she decided to give him a taste of her own dry humor. "Aye, I was wrong, unabashedly. You married me because your advisors told you to."

"That as well is why I married you, but again, not the main reason."

"Then pray tell why you married me and not any Rohirric lady."

A twinkle in his eye caught his half-truth while he spoke earnestly. "I have always preferred women with darker hair rather than lighter."

Lothíriel's laughter echoed throughout the night air like chimes, and she shook her head whilst she smiled good-naturedly. "You married me because no other woman would take you."

"Lady, you hurt my heart so, I hope you know!" Éomer exchanged a smile with his wife, who was trying hard not to show any of her apprehension for showing Éomer her true colors. He once again felt a surge of pride, knowing that she was trying so hard to allow him into her world. "In all honesty," said he evenly, "I married you because I hoped that you would fill a place in my heart that had emptied when I found myself alone in Meduseld." His eyes looked bitter when he continued. "No sister, cousin, or uncle, only me and my advisors."

Lothíriel was struck by an odd sensation in her bosom while she remembered that she had had four men with her throughout her whole life. Her mother died when they were at war, but she had always been safe, guarded either by their security or the walls of Dol Amroth's shores. Perhaps that was why she was so timid. She had never left the protection of her childhood haven, and now she was married to a man who she found completely startling in both attractiveness and manner. She had never seen a man with such golden hair, or a man with such pride and stubbornness. At first, she had been terrified, then it had lessoned into a precaution for showing her inner beauty, but now she held a feeling in her heart that he would place her confidence deep inside his heart, and he would cherish her.

Éowyn was right, Lothíriel decided, in telling her that no matter the tasks produced, (in her case the ability to ride horses and his, to provide a room to draw in) first, they had to become more acquainted with one another. Lothíriel should have known better than to believe that her father would arrange a marriage with a barbaric person. Her fear had been uncalled for, and she was ashamed of it. Still, she felt self-conscious, but not to the point where she would not speak her mind to him.

They paused in their walk and Éomer saw in front of him a bush of roses, all a deep red, but one in particular stood out to his sight. It seemed to him to be much more beautiful than any other, though they all were all appealing. It at once reminded him of Lothíriel, for women were all beautiful but she in his mind was better than the rest, just as Éowyn was to Faramir, Arwen was to Aragorn, and Forleaswyn was to Éothain.

Éomer's fingers picked the rose without thinking, the rose crimson in color and dewdrops apparent from the falling dusk. The stem was long and the thorns grew sparse at the bottom and thick near the head. It seemed to smile upon the whole world in its ethereal beauty, and Lothíriel felt her heart skip a beat by the tenderness now replacing the once hardened warrior mask of her husband.

Placing her hands around a part of the stem that had no thorns, Éomer smiled his genuine grin. "In the past," Éomer began, "the rose had always been the symbol of love, and a single rose meant 'I love you.' I hope you will accept this small gift."

Feeling her throat tighten, Lothíriel could sense every nerve in her body trembling. She could merely nod as she let go of his arm with her other hand to hold the rose in her fingers. "I have nothing for you, I am sorry," she managed out after the shock that a man as mighty and valiant as her husband would say such words to her.

Éomer leaned forward, their faces an inch apart, saying, "There is one thing that I desire."

A red that matched the rose sprinkled across Lothíriel's face and she locked eyes with him. "And where can I get what you want?" her voice queried. Éomer merely smiled.

"Look deep inside your heart; you know what I want."

In the next moment, both leaned forward and locked lips, the sweet sensation bringing a tingling sensation to Lothíriel's lips and knocking the wind from Éomer just like a hard fall from Firefoot. Before Lothíriel remembered her timidity, the kiss had already deepened, she wrapped her arm about his neck still holding the rose in her other hand, and he tangled his fingers in her hair. Éomer was stunned by the intensity of the kiss for merely a moment, forgetting the awkwardness of before. Pulling back slowly and gasping for air, she felt almost mournful for the break. Éomer's smile was deep as he placed one of her hands on his arm, and they began to walk once more, acting as if nothing happened.

That is, until Lothíriel spoke, her voice no louder than a murmur, "You still need a gift, milord, for I enjoyed that just as much as you."

Éomer wanted no other gift, however, for to hear those words escape from her lips was better than he could have wished, the reality of it all only enhancing the night's greatness.

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Up above the scene of the newly wedded couple speaking and laughing as if they had always been friends, Imrahil paused at his bedroom window. He surveyed the scene; unable to distinguish any words, but his face grew into a knowing smile. Imrahil still proceeded to amaze himself, for he had known, someway, somehow, the couple would work. Lothíriel needed someone to take care of her when he was gone, for he knew he would die in due time, and Éomer needed someone to help him with his kingly duties, and keep him from slipping into a deep depression from the aftermath of the War.

At the proposal to his distraught daughter, Imrahil had thought that the two would be doomed and that he had never failed more as a father. Then, at the wedding when Éomer-King's eyes fell upon Lady Lothíriel in her wedding gown, so white and pristine in an illumination of splendor, Imrahil had noticed how Éomer looked at his daughter, and some of his anxiousness had fallen from his mind. The hard part was yet to come, because Lothíriel was so timid, but Erchirion had helped Éomer know more of Lothíriel.

Imrahil had not known of either of the new couple's trials to please the other until that morning when Forleaswyn and Éowyn had found him and spoke to him of them. He had calmed the two ladies who were fussing more than the tiny baby that lay asleep in the new mother's arms, and told them that the fates had an odd way of fooling all, and producing a merry finale. Never doubting his first instinct, Imrahil had waited until that night and saw his precious daughter was finally breaking through the invisible wall that had separated her and any other person outside her family.

Oh, he would miss her more than any other thing, but Imrahil was pleased. He had feared that his only daughter would be alone if he were to die soon.

Now, all Imrahil had to worry of was his two sons. However, the watchful father had seen Erchirion with a beautiful woman of the Rohirric Court, Helena, and Amrothos had already pronounced the love of a Dol Amrothian beauty, though Imrahil highly doubted the girl knew of Amrothos' undaunted love yet. If the love of Éomer and Lothíriel was possible, Imrahil held no doubt in his mind that his two sons could find loves as well.

Sighing contentedly, Imrahil took his cloak from his room and tied it about his shoulders, gazing one last time to his daughter, and then he exited his room and to the dining halls, ready to make the king and queen's apologies of not being able to attend the meal.

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Soon, it grew to be the day that the rest of the wedding's guests were leaving, and Lothíriel stood strong, crying in despair, but smiling in hope that she would meet her family more in the future. The day was a lovely day, the sun was brilliant and warm, smiling down upon all that were present to say farewell. The mood amongst the crowds was sorrowful, though there was no foreboding pressure on anyone, and all were expectant to meet once more in the near future. Imrahil embraced his daughter tight, looking into her eyes as they stood back. He placed a hand on her cheek soothingly, and she smiled against his touch.

"You will be happy here," he told her assuredly.

"I know."

Her words held such confidence that Imrahil smiled despite the knowledge she did not need him anymore. It was a bittersweet feeling, but there was more good than bad, he deemed. Éomer was saying goodbye to Éowyn and Faramir, while Erchirion and Amrothos waited to say their farewells to their sister after Imrahil. It had been arranged already that Helena was to join the Dol Amroth party to their home by the sea, as Erchirion had not wished to say adieu to her, nor had she.

"We will see each other again," Lothíriel said, pressing her lips to her father's cheek. Imrahil smiled at the humor that his once distraught daughter was consoling him. "When Erchirion marries Helena, no doubt." She giggled despite her tears.

"I will be expectant to see you soon," Imrahil nodded. He surveyed his daughter through his own tears. "If you are ever in need of me, just look into the sky, and know that at that moment I will be looking into the very same sky, thinking of you. But do not keep your hurting from Éomer, for he is loosing his sister to distance as well."

Lothíriel nodded. "I will do as you wish, father." A drop slid down her cheek, but she tried to smile nevertheless.

"You look so much like your mother, Lothíriel. I know she is as proud as I am of you," Imrahil said. Lothíriel nodded as she closed her eyes in want of stemming the even flow of tears tracing down her face. She turned to her brothers, murmuring her love of them with compassionate lips. Nothing had ever proved to be more difficult than to see Amrothos mount his horse, and Erchirion followed suit after kissing his sister's cheek, and promising to come if she ever yearned to see him.

Then, Lothíriel turned to her father, tall and clad in silver and blue. He wrapped his arms about his daughter once more, kissing her forehead, and smiling to her. "Dol Amroth will always be your home, daughter, if you need her, do not feel unwelcome." He paused and smiled, Lothíriel tried to stay strong. "Dol Amroth did not lose her Princess, Rohan merely gained her Queen."

Lothíriel smiled in return. "And Rohan's Queen wishes you to know that she expects visits. It would be far too peaceful without my family to reside here for a spell during the near future."

After finishing their goodbyes, Imrahil mounted his horse, and Lothíriel found Éomer awaiting her at the head of the farewell party, watching Éowyn smile to him on her chestnut mare beside Faramir. Orders called amongst the riders, and Imrahil, his two sons, Éowyn, and Faramir led the group down the paths to their own homes, away from a part of their family they hated to leave behind.

It was nearly unbearable for Lothíriel to see a part of her heart leave her new home, to extend many miles before her in the land where she was born into. However, when the last of the horses of the leaving party escaped human eyesight, she turned to her husband, tall and strong, the backdrop the beautiful golden hall of Meduseld, and she knew she had found her place, as Queen of Rohan, and wife of Éomer Éadig.

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	9. Chapter 9

_Alas, it is the end! But I am sure you all will like it. If I ever get bit by the Lord of the Rings bug again, I do promise to write a continuation of this story, but who knows what will happen. School is very hectic of the late, and I must wait to see how I can deal before I start a new story. The last note to my reviewers is here! _

**_Voldie on Varsity Track: _**_I'm so glad you like my story! I cannot believe why you hate Éomer/Lothíriel stories usually, I have read so many good ones. Hope you like the update._

_**Princess of Ithilien: **Yes, it was a good ending, but not good enough for me! I absolutely adore this chapter, and needed to write it, so there ya go! Hope you enjoy!_

**_Kia: _**_Lol, I'm glad my story was such a relief! Here's more, I'm happy it's your fave. :-) _

**_Blue Eyes At Night: _**_Who said I _wasn't _going to involve Elfwine? Huh? You never read the last chapter yet! Thanks for the humor, much appreciated. -eyebrow wiggle- _

**_LadyArian: _**_They had only been married for a week, and Imrahil was still there with Erchirion, Amrothos, Éowyn, and Faramir. The only ones to go home yet was Aragorn, Arwen, Elphir, Nienna, and Alphros. I hope that clarified:-) _

**_Wondereye_**_: I'm happy you liked it. Hope you like the last! _

**_Quizzabella_**_: Yeah, I really liked the last paragraph and Imrahil too. Hope you like this! _

**_Sister Kitty: _**_Yeah, I am terribly jealous of Lothíriel, for having Éomer! O well, there has got to be at least one Éomer here for me! Thanks for the review. _

**_Rebby Éowyn: _**_So you _didn't _read me A/N, huh? Lol, I knew not everyone would, I usually skip them. But yeah, there is one more chapter! Then, who knows about another story. Thanks, and hope you like it! _

**_leslienicolespeaks: _**_I'm glad you like it, and thank you for reading the A/N ;-) _

**_ArcherGal2932: _**_That was my ultimate masterpiece, that line! I love it too, I'm glad someone caught it. Thanks for the review, hope you read/like this! _

**_Jazzcat: _**_Yes, I think Éomer will forgive you…lol. You are right, I do use 'word redundancies.' I try not too, but…it's hard! Lol. O well, I hope you like the end! Thank you for the review and praise, you are awesome. _

**_Cookie, Sarahbarr17, madrone, fleur137: _**_Thanks for sticking with me to the end, your reviews are much appreciated, and I hope you all enjoy the last chapter! _

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It was late in the morning when Lothíriel finally was inside the room Éomer had built for her a few years ago; drawing a picture of a face, she had dreamt. The room was everything she would have wanted. The furnishings were Birch wood, and each wall held two spacious windows with shutters to close when there was a wintry breeze blowing through Edoras. There was a sitting area of two matching lounges and a short table between them. There were various sized easels for Lothíriel to use when painting, and a table with a chair on it in front of the largest window, pointing east, where there was a brilliant view of Rohan's village life. The outside of the room designed to match Meduseld was not as intricate yet beautiful all the same with golden columns on each corner, sculpted with horses along the tops and bottoms. The shutters held the same horse pattern, and it was a pride-worthy building to the designer and builders.

The previous day, Lothíriel had made some new paints, beautiful autumn colors of brown, gold, orange, red, and sage greens, and she was using those that day, painting a picture that had been in her dreams for the past few days. It was turning out wonderfully when she heard a soft knock on the closed door, and Lothíriel set her paintbrush down, looked fondly at her masterpiece and stood, her swollen belly making her walk slowly to the door and answer it. She found it was her husband, and he greeted her with a kiss on her cheek.

"How are you, love?" he asked, holding one of her hands and placing his other hand on her belly.

"We are feeling quite well today," Lothíriel smiled. Éomer looked over her shoulder and saw the picture she had been working on, and he smiled.

"Your art is wonderful, milady," he said softly. The picture was so smooth, the lines so delicately placed that it nearly looked alive. The colors made the picture look as if it were glowing with happiness and mirth. The picture had two little boys' faces in the clouds, all amber from the highlight of the sun. Beside the boys was a girl, younger than both the boys with small curls about her face. Lothíriel beamed proudly, and leaned against her husband in a meek display of affection. "Where was your inspiration for such angelic faces?"

"My dreams," Lothíriel said in return. Éomer smiled and gestured to the eldest boy.

"This face looks familiar," he spoke, "but these two do not."

Lothíriel merely smiled. "They will be in the future."

"Do you believe your dreams so confidently true?" Éomer countered with a playful glint in his eye as he squeezed her arm softly.

"Yes," said she. "Before the War of the Ring, and on the week before I married my best friend from my father's wish, I dreamed of a magnificent king riding a horse of steel gray towards me, his hair a golden halo round his head, and his eyes so fierce but so loving towards me. I had known at once that somehow the man I was to marry was not the true one for me, for his features were dark and the dream rider was golden. My first dream was very much like my dream last night, and I suspect you would agree in my saying that my first, shall I say prophecy, came true. Would you not, love?"

Éomer smiled wryly. "First tell me who this 'magnificent king' is. Should I know of him? Is he holding any threat to stealing your love for me away?"

Lothíriel's laugh sounded like chimes in the breezy atmosphere. "I would say he is a threat for you, the way he is looking at me now."

"Ah," said Éomer, "the only two in this room are you and I, so it must be me you dreamt of so long before."

"Yes, Éomer," Lothíriel smiled tangling her hands in his as she pressed against him, "it was you." He leaned down to kiss her, and her lips passionately reciprocated every motion he offered her.

Lately, she had been even more quiet than usual, especially in the counsels between Éomer and Marshall Erkenbrand who had arrived from his border patrol to tell his king how the relations between Rohan's neighbors stood. Rohan's population was steadily increasing from the War of the Ring's heavy losses, and its agricultural resources were growing as well. All seemed to be better – even the relations between the Dunlendings and the Rohirrim was becoming less heated after Éomer had delivered food to them across the river bordering Rohan and Dunland himself before the last particularly heavy winter. That food had saved hundreds of lives, and the treaty that King Théoden had made between them was renewed.

Lothíriel said no more when they parted, but allowed Éomer to hold her close to his strong body. Éowyn had been right, she had felt no safer than with him, and when he had left to Aldburg during her first pregnancy, she had never been more afraid of anyone's absence.

"You know I love you," Éomer murmured gently when she rested her head on his chest.

"You remind me each day," teased Lothíriel. "But yes, I do know. And I love you, Éomer, more than anything this world has known."

Though it had taken so long for the couple to realize it, they were so deeply in love nothing in the world could take them apart. Though neither was perfect, to the other, they were. In their eyes, they saw a sublime future; both Éomer and Lothíriel would face the difficulty of tomorrow together.

"Lady Lothí," a little boy's voice came from the entrance of the building. Lothíriel pushed away from Éomer, her green gown sparkling in the brilliant sunlight. She looked to who was speaking and saw a young boy, his loose golden curls a mess atop his head, and his amber eyes sparkling with a withheld glee. He was about five years old, and he had just mastered how to say Lothíriel's name, but chose to stick with his nickname that all had become accustomed to call her as well.

"Théodric," Lothíriel smiled, "where is Elfwine? I thought you had agreed to look after him for me with your parents."

Théodric bobbed his head up and down. "I did. But Mama and Papa told me to come and get you because…guess why!"

Lothíriel and Éomer exchanged a glance. Knowing Théodric, they understood the wide variety of excitement he found in the smallest things. "I do not know why, would you tell me?" Lothíriel asked. Théodric bobbed his head up and down enthusiastically, his adorable eyes glittering in the rays of sun in the sky.

"Elfwine can walk!"

Lothíriel's hand flew to her mouth and she exchanged an ecstatic glance with her husband, whose eyes were shining. "Come, Théodric, show us," Éomer said. He needed no other pushing, for Théodric nodded, turned, and motioned for them to follow as he hurried through the door and to the courtyard beside the gardens. There, the babe that was the heir of the throne to Rohan was holding to the tip of Forleaswyn's finger while she and Éothain marveled at the boy who walked so slowly but with such pride! Never had anyone matched so unintentionally the walk of the current King of Rohan.

When the hazel eyes of Elfwine had fallen onto Éomer and Lothíriel, the boy grew a look of utter contemplation on his face and he let go of Forleaswyn's hand and with tentative steps made his way to his parents. With his dark curls bouncing and his mouth gliding open in adoration, he nearly fell during his trek, but Éomer stepped forward and brought him into the air, praising his son fondly.

"Never have I seen so talented a young boy," Éomer declared. Lothíriel giggled.

"Never have I seen a son more taking after his father," Éothain remarked to the two women who continued to laugh. "It is true," admonished Éothain. "Did you see the stubbornness Elfwine portrayed in his walk? Pride and integrity already clear in those awkward steps. Why, if not for his dark hair I would have thought him to be an exact replica of Éomer!"

Éomer did not seem to see anything bad with this observation nor did his wife who was coddling her child in a way that only mothers can get away with.

All of Rohan was proud of their heir, and were expectant to see the new addition to the Royal family. Elfwine, so young and innocent did not know the daunting tasks that he would need to face when he was older. His carefree virtue was so heart-warming, and just seeing the happy toddler smile would brighten anyone's day. Théodric, was already 'training' to join Marshall Elfhelm's éored, for the boy had taken a liking to the middle-aged warrior, and claimed him to be his idol. For this, both Éomer and Éothain saw themselves in the young boy, and Éomer knew that when Elfwine was of an older age, he would also wish to join an éored. Éomer had never known pride so well than when he looked at his son.

That night, when the two young parents safely tucked Elfwine into bed, asleep, and Théodric was terrorizing his parents to tell him a story of Helm Hammerhand, who was his second hero, Lothíriel, and Éomer, snuck outside.

"Are you sure this is fine?" Éomer asked. "It will harm neither you nor the child?"

"Éomer," Lothíriel said, soothingly placing her delicate hand on his arm, "I still have two months until the birth will take place. The midwife said there is no harm in doing this. Please, stop worrying. I want to see the sunset; it is such a beautiful day, and what better way to do this than on my beloved Aefentid?"

Éomer agreed.

Once the great gray stallion and golden mare were saddled, Éomer helped Lothíriel on top of her horse, who he had given to her exactly five years ago that day, two weeks after their marriage. Lothíriel smiled as she settled down, rubbing the silken hairs on the mare's neck softly as her husband mounted Firefoot. She nodded to him after his questioning gaze, and they brought their horses to a trot, Firefoot tossing his head, trying to go faster. The horses effortlessly glided into a slow-paced canter, their bodies brushing against the fields of gold, swaying in the waning sun.

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